The Hunted
by Ironsides
Summary: The Games have ended, the Capitol has fallen. A new generation has grown up in freedom, but for many the wounds of the past are still raw, and the Games may not have claimed their last victims. The next novel in the Hunger Games Universe.
1. Chapter 1

I walk through the streets of District 12 doing my best to conceal my unease. The people stare at me as if I'm some kind of unknown pathogen, a possible threat. It's completely understandable. Even though it's been over twenty years since the Capitol rained fire down upon this place the emotional scars still run deep. The presence of any uniform must be a painful remainder of the need to distrust authority here.

I do my best to seem relaxed and congenial, but know I am failing. I guess it's not too often that any military officer of the United Districts of Panem makes an appearance in this District, especially one like me. As I walk from the train station into the town square, I pass a few older residents sitting at a table in front of a merchant's shop. They sit quietly laughing, playing a local card game I don't recognize. As soon as they catch a glimpse of me, the laughter stops. I try to give a friendly nod of my head, but it does nothing to alleviate the sudden tension. It may be simply my nerve induced imagination, but I feel like I see a glint of recognition in their faces as if somewhere deep down in their psyche a bandage is being ripped from an old wound that still has yet to heal. I increase my pace as much as possible without being noticed. I don't belong here and I know it, but I'm on a mission. A mission that for the first time in my life the UDP Defense Ministry has not assigned: this one is personal.

I make my way to Victor's Village, a group of 12 houses that serves as a reminder of the Games that once plagued this nation. The Games that changed the course of everything, resulted in the birth of this new country, and forged my life in a way that only I understand.

Only two Victors live here now. Until four years ago, there was a third until he finally passed away…I hope in some measure of peace. When I heard, I thought of performing this mission after his funeral, but finally decided it would be too damaging and too painful for everyone involved.

I pass a simple memorial to all the Fallen Tributes of District 12; a simple stone Obelisk with a bronzed plaque listing 147 names. Donated from the masons of District 2, the thought, "Morbidly Appropriate" crosses my mind considering so many of these names fell at the hands of the Careers of that District. As my mind scrolls over the weathered etchings, I recognize all that I see. My mind puts the names to their recorded faces. I replay their ghastly deaths in my mind. Every day of my youth was spent watching the reruns of the Hunger Games. Over and over my mentors drilled the images into my young mind while constantly reinforcing the horror of what I was seeing. I push the emotions down as they threaten to erupt because seeing this crafted piece of rock is like seeing the tombstone of family.

"No," I say to myself under my breath as the anger resurfaces. Besides Venus and Lizzy, I have no family. I hate the rest even though I never met them. These names are more than family. These names are the ones I love.

It's obvious which house is the one I'm looking for. It's the only one that seems alive. It's the only one that's a home. Green grass covers the lawn leading to the front steps. The flower baskets under the front windows are filled with gloriously colored wildflowers gathered from a dozen different meadows in the woods surrounding the town.

I'm more nervous now than ever. The thought that I should just turn around now and explain to Lizzy that I couldn't do this simple task tempts me, but the knowledge that she would never let me live it down drives me forward. I pause at the bottom of the first step to adjust my uniform. Meticulously, I pinch the creases in my black trousers and tug on the bottom of my black shirt to make sure it hangs correctly. I pull on the side of my blue beret to ensure it is still tightly fitted to my head before I check my polished gold badges, make sure that the Colonel insignia on my epaulets still gleam in the sunlight, and that the flag of the United Districts of Panem on my right shoulder is still in a condition befitting my hosts considering they did more to fight for it than anyone else. A look down to see the Mockingjay with wings unfurled proudly surrounded by thirteen stars on a field of thirteen stripes, one for each of the Districts of Panem. There is only one thing missing: my nametag. I never wear it in public unless I have to and removed it before I even stepped foot on the train in the Capitol Station. That piece of information must wait until the time is right; if it ever is right.

"The Mockingjay," I think. "I can't believe that I'm finally going to meet _the Mockingjay_. I gather the courage to slowly climb the steps as my heart begins to pound and I feel the wetness of my palms. I wasn't this nervous the first time someone was shooting at me. I raise my hand to knock when the door suddenly opens. Standing before me is Peeta Mellark. His eyes burn right at me, instantly trying to determine what kind of threat I pose. His eyes widen, as if he recognizes me, the nervousness and fear in my chest reach a climax. I fear that he'll lunge forward and try to kill me, and I would honestly not blame him if he did. Perhaps it would even be fitting as if the Universe was trying to balance itself out.

However, he suddenly relaxes (if only a little) just enough to say one sentence:

"What do you want?"

"Mr. Mellark," I say trying to sound as unimposing as possible. "My name is Ares. I've travelled all the way from the Capitol, and if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to have a few words with you and Ms. Everdeen."

"Her name is Mrs. Mellark now," he responds sharply. "It's been Mellark for a long time."

"Of course, I'm sorry," I say politely but inside I'm cursing myself for saying such a stupid thing.

I think he's about to slam the door in my face when suddenly he steps and gestures towards the hallway.

"Please, Come in." I step inside and am led down a plush green-carpeted hallway toward the delicious smell of roasting game. The painted walls are lined with incredible paintings of gorgeous landscapes. From the forests of District 7, to the orchards of 11, and even the skyline of the Capitol, I soon recognize them as some of the most beautiful spots in all of Panem.

I hear the sounds of children playing on a tile floor. "Katniss!" he yells toward the kitchen. "We have a visitor." Above the doorway, hangs a glorious black bow and quiver. I have to hold back my desire to touch it. This is bow built by the Victors, used in the Revolution, and that almost killed President Snow.

Not wanting to try my hosts' patience any further, I take a final breath and step inside. There sitting at the table is the Mockingjay, whose glorious deeds in the Arena have been my guide my whole life. She looks up and freezes as her grey eyes meet mine. I see the same look that crossed her husband's face. With reflexes like I've never seen in even the most seasoned combat veterans, I see her reach for something behind her back. "Katniss, No!" Peeta yells from behind me. The boy and girl on the floor freeze as if they've been trained for something like this. She slowly pulls her hand from behind her and places them on the table. "Prim," she says softly yet sternly, "Take Haymitch upstairs and don't come down until Mommy or Daddy come and get you, understand?" Wordlessly, the girl takes the boy by the hand and leads them out of the room. Obviously, they have been trained, trained for the day that a man or woman like me would appear and shatter what peace they have been raised in. I suddenly feel like the most selfish individual in the world. What right do I have to do this? To violate the sanctity of this hallowed place? However, I know there is no turning back now.

Peeta slowly circles around behind me and joins his wife behind the table. He softly places a hand on her shoulder. I notice the calming effect it has on her immediately but she still eyes me like a mother bear who feels her cubs are threatened. Peeta is the first to break the awkward silence.

"You're a little young for a Colonel, aren't you?" Little does he know that I was raised to this rank from almost birth.

"Mr. Mellark, Mrs. Mellark," I manage to speak, "I don't know how to even begin, but I've been looking forward to this moment for almost my entire life.

I see them both tense as if they think I'm about to draw a concealed weapon. The time for subtlety has passed, only the truth will do now. "Mrs. Mellark, as I've already told your husband my name is Ares and I've travelled all the way from the Capitol to ask just one thing from you both," I pause not knowing how they will react. "I ask your forgiveness." This floors them. They seem confused, searching my face for some clue to my identity which I believe they already secretly know.

"Who are you?" Katniss asks forcefully in a voice I recognize from the endless hours of studying her recordings. Her eyes continue to stare directly into mine. It is like "the Girl who was on Fire" is trying to set me alight with her gaze.

"I was two years old during the District Rebellion. There were sixteen of us, including myself and my older sister," I say as I begin my long painful story. "We were the children and grandchildren of President Snow's Council of Ten." The Council of Ten were President Snow's must trusted advisors; the oligarchs of the Capitol and principal cause of the District's endless pain. If every crime they ever committed was put on trial, the proceedings would probably still be going on. After the war, Snow decided to stay for a last stand. He had no intention of becoming someone else running prey. The rest fled the Capitol and were eventually hunted down in gruesome, if not ironically fitting ways.

"After the fall of the Capitol," I continue, "the new government took us into custody and raised us to revile everything about those who conceived us. Their justification was to prevent any possibility that we would turn into a threat to the new country or attempt to regain power.

As we grew, we began military style reeducation, and they punished both our bodies and our minds. We were forced to learn every single crime of our families, principal among those The Hunger Games." I fight back the emotions again. "My sister and I have watched in endless detail every death, every kill…and _every_ victim."

I scan their expressions hoping to find some reaction. I'm not sure what I see, somewhere between pity, horror, and anger, and I'm not sure if it's directed at me. "There was however, one bright spot in my education." This perks their interest. _"You."_

"Us?" Peeta responds with half surprise and half trying to elicit more information.

"Your love for each other which overcame even the horror of death. Your desire to protect each other even when the Capitol made you choose between destroying each other or destroying yourselves. Your passion in your resolve to give freedom to the oppressed People's of Panem!" I realize now how ridiculous I must sound to them. Like an obsessed fool; so enamored that he can't realize the bigger picture outside the drama of the arena for these two. The emotion is building back inside of me despite all my best efforts. I fear I might lose it, but I exercise discipline and steady myself. "You are both my heroes on which I have modeled my life."

At first I think they find this insulting, but they continue their interrogation of me with a steady coolness. These two have been through too much suffering to accept me so quickly.

"If the Capitol views you as such a threat, then why did they make you a Colonel in their Army at such a young age?" Katniss says in way that makes me feel she's trying to trap me like an animal in her famous snares.

"As each of us reached the age of seventeen, our mentors gave us a choice: enter a life of self-imposed exile in the Districts living under constant government surveillance, or continue our training and dedicate the remainder of our lives to serving the United Districts of Panem until our new nation required our death."

"Nothing has changed," Peeta whispers in a depressed tone.

"I think it has, Sir," I find myself saying almost reflexively, "before they wouldn't have given us the choice." I think this might have had some effect on them. I continue.

"Fifteen, including my sister, chose exile. I chose service, mostly because I felt I had the most debt to repay." If they hadn't guessed my identity by now I'm sure this is the final clue they need.

"Why now?" Katniss fires back at me. "Why after all these years have you finally decided to come to us now?"

"Because I may not have much time left. Fourteen of the original sixteen have disappeared without a trace in the last year. All that remains of the Council's descendants are my sister and me. I've moved her to the Capitol for protection, but I fear that even that is not enough to save us. Whoever wants us gone has left no clues and doesn't seem to have made a single mistake.

My wife said that if I didn't do this now, I could die without showing my love and appreciation for the two people who I feel are most like parents to me." I tell that my last statement has made Katniss's skin crawl but Peeta seems like he could be actually touched by my sentiment. "I mean she owes such a debt of gratitude to you both as well. The stories her aunt told her of you during the last Quarter Quell and the Rebellion are the only way she has ever really known her uncle outside of television." This strikes them both immediately.

"Who is your wife?" Peeta quickly asks.

"Her maiden name is Elizabeth Odair." I respond kindly. Tears begin forming in Katniss's eyes. "But I call her Lizzy."

"Finnick," she finally manages to get out.

"Lizzy was Finnick's niece, born in District 4 during the uprisings. Her parents didn't tell her much at first because they thought it was safer that way, but as soon as she was old enough, she found Annie and the two have been inseparable ever since. Annie used to even call her the daughter she could never have. Lizzy wanted to come and finally meet you as well, but she thought it might be too much for you to absorb all at once."

"Can…" Katniss actually trembles. "Can I see her?" I pull a photograph out of my shirt pocket that I brought just for this purpose.

"It was our wedding day." I say handing her the picture of us holding hands on a beach in District 4 just as the sun was beginning to set. The polished sea shells and corral covering Lizzy's dress glimmer in the fading light. Annie stands next to her with a smile so wide that it almost seems she had completely forgotten the years trauma in her life. Katniss slowly runs her hand over the image of Lizzy's red hair.

"She has Finnick's eyes," Katniss says lovingly.

"They remind me of the sea," is all I can respond.

"This picture definitely shows how much they love you," Peeta says.

"Which means Finnick would have loved you as well…"Katniss adds trailing off.

"How is Annie? Could we visit?" Peeta asks hopefully. I pause this time.

"Sadly, she passed away last year," I say, "but I assure you it was peaceful and in her own warm bed. All of her family was with her. As her heart began to fail she simply placed my hand in Lizzy's and told me it was my job to protect her now. A few minutes later, she whispered, 'Finnick,' and then just went to sleep."

"How death should be," Katniss says. "Full of love instead of hate and fear." She leans back into Peeta's chest as he wraps his arms fully around her.

"The descendant of a Capitol Councilor marrying into the family of two Tributes, maybe there is hope for this country yet," Peeta says with the hint of a smile which I deeply regret having to spoil.

"Not a Councilor…and not the child. _A grandchild_." They stiffen again and now I am sure they know my secret.

I also know that it is time to leave. I turn toward the door, feeling slightly crestfallen until Peeta's voice catches me.

"Ares, you have my forgiveness." Words that I know are the most difficult for him to say considering his history. Katniss says nothing but the look in her eyes tells me that I have hers as well.

"Please, tell Lizzy that she is welcome in our home any time. I already consider her," she pauses as she painfully considers her next words. The fact that she has the strength to say them makes me love her even more. "I already consider _both _of you family." Her voice then turns hard as rock. "Find who is doing this to the Sixteen before it's too late. If anything happens to you, I know that Lizzy would die inside as much as I would if something happened to Peeta. The Hunger Games needs no more victims. Understand, Soldier?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And may the odds be ever in your favor, Ares," Peeta adds with another smile. Again, he shows that his remarkable talent to say exactly the right thing at just the right time has not faded. I simply smile back and turn to leave again.

"Wait," Katniss says just before I leave the room. "No more implied truths and no more lies," she says as her eyes look straight into me. "Have the courage to tell me your last name. Say it aloud." I obey an order as any good soldier must.

"Ares Snow. My name is Ares Snow."


	2. Chapter 2

I lean against the window of the train as we fly through the wheat fields of District 9 at several hundred miles per hour. The golden acres turn into a blur that stretches toward the horizon. The blazing sun of the late afternoon just begins to dip beneath the western mountains which house the Capitol. We will arrive in only a few hours.

There was a very spirited debate whether or not to move the seat of government after the Revolution. The idea of keeping control in the same buildings that housed our former tyrants was abhorrent to many and at first ruled out. Then the endless months of debate and counter debate in which District the new Capitol would be built. No one could agree. 2 of course wanted it because they felt that had the most to lose by changing the Capitol. 11 wanted it because they felt that they were the most abused District under Snow's government. A representative from 4 even suggested putting the Capitol on a ship and sail it around the entire coast line of Panem.

Eventually, we realized that the greatest compromise would be to keep things exactly as they were, with one major difference. Though people who lived within the Capitol would have the same rights as those who lived in the Districts, they would receive no representation in the legislature. Only the Districts would have the right to pass laws for themselves.

"More coffee, Sir?" A voice breaks my concentration and rouses me from my meditative state. I turn to find a female attendant holding a pot over my empty cup.

"Yes, Please," I respond mindlessly. She fills my cup to the brim, pulls some sugar packets and cream from a pocket on her black apron and moves on to the other passengers in the car. Since travel between the districts is no longer restricted, more and more citizens move around the UDP for business or pleasure. One of the new government's first initiatives was to develop a more robust infrastructure, including a national rail line at prices that people in every District could afford. I wouldn't call it luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it's comfortable and efficient. District 1 to District 13 in about 24 hours, why ask for more?

Even though I could probably swing a private train with my position, I never do so unless I absolutely have to. I enjoy being around people; makes me feel more like a normal human being rather than some kind of fugitive. However, of course, the name tag stays off.

After another half an hour or so, the setting sun finally outpaces our journey westward and darkness envelops the train. I look to my left to see a mother traveling with her two children. Their dress indicates that they have been on the train since District 8, a very long day indeed. They all seem to be fighting sleep but losing rapidly. The mother is probably a few years older than me, and therefore probably has some recognition of the old regime. Her two boys can't be older than five or six. All three of them quietly slip into slumber. I smile as I think it is because the mother knows her children will never be taken away from her and therefore has never had to warn her children about it. They have never had to watch slaughter become spectacle. Never wonder if the boys will be forced to go to the steps of the Justice Building to sign up for tesserae just to put something in their empty bellies and that their mother will have to make a meal possibly bought with her own offspring's blood.

Peeta's words run through my head once again:

"The descendant of a Capitol Councilor marrying into the family of two Tributes, maybe there is hope for this country yet." I know he is right, and it is like a weight lifted from my shoulders, until I remember the whole reason I made this trip. The Sixteen are disappearing.

I keep staring at the mother and the two children and wonder if I will ever have the chance to begin a family with Lizzy. There was never a question that the two of us wanted children from the very beginning. District 4 has two traditions: fishing and large families. Lizzy was the youngest of six. From what I could gather, the Snows didn't share in that thinking. Large families are often to the detriment of despots bent on establishing a dynasty. My grandfather had one son, and that one son had two children, myself included. When I married Lizzy, I swore that I would change that and start a family that would only be limited by the amount of love in our hearts rather than who would be a better choice to carry on the status quo. Now, as I face the possibility of having that future ripped away by a stranger I have never met, I think back to Prim and Haymitch Mellark and am least happy that Katniss and Peeta were able to have that future. They probably deserve it more anyway.

My mind continues to drift. I remember the very first time I ever met the woman who would become my wife:

I had been alone in the Capitol for two years after my decision to stay. I had flung myself into the military life and had just returned from my first combat: the border incursion of the Central American Union. They were never powerful enough to challenge the Peacekeepers of Panem with their ancient claim on the land that had become District 10, but figured that the new UDP government was weak and disjointed enough that a single district could be ripped away. They were wrong. The mechanized unit I commanded led the charge and we pushed all the way from our Borders to the Trans-Oceanic Canal. Total Victory.

The result was that my minders now had at least some trust in my intentions and gave me a level of freedom that was new to me. The thirst to learn was overwhelming, and I began to pursue education, foremost among them psychology. Specifically, I was interested in if it was possible to repair the mental damage that lingered after intense trauma. I thought that maybe someone could one day erase the hatred of the Hunger Games without having to cease educating people about it; repair the damage of the past without risking making the same mistakes and maybe give me the ability to one day reclaim my name.

One day, shortly after my nineteenth birthday I was on the campus of Capitol University when I saw a flyer for a lecture that would be conducted the next night. It was titled, "Breaking Through the Darkness: Healing the Wounds of the Hunger Games." My jaw dropped as I saw the name of the guest speaker, a young undergraduate researcher from District 4 named Elizabeth Odair. I knew the last name, and I knew that I would be in attendance.

The next evening I filed with the rest of the attendees into the main lecture hall of the Psychology building and watched a woman walk toward the podium on the stage. She wore a very plain skirt and blouse, her red-hair was pulled back behind her head, and everything about her screamed academic, but I immediately saw past all that. All the way to something that was unlike anything I had ever seen. She began her lecture.

"By the time I finally met my aunt, Annie Odair, better known to Panem as Annie Cresta, Victor of the 70th Hunger Games, nearly twenty years had passed since her victory and almost ten years since the horror of the Capitol's retribution during the Revolution, but her mind was still trapped in the grip of her pain. However, with a lot of work and even more love, pain can be defeated…"

I sat enraptured for the next two hours as she explained the work she had done with Annie and related it to a variety of theories that I really did not understand. She was brilliant and beautiful, and I wanted to be close to her.

As soon as her closing remarks were over and the applause had begun, I leaped from my seat and ran to the base of the stage. She was surrounded by a group of senior professors who were stunned both by her youth and her work. I laid in wait with quiet patience just as if it was an ambush. I would not let her get away without at least talking to me. Finally, I made my move.

"Fantastic lecture. Just fantastic," I said throwing my hand in her path before she could leave.

"Thank You, It's something very personal to me," she said trying to sound polite.

"To me as well." I replied which struck her as odd.

"You're related to a Victor? Cause if so I'd love to interview you." She was always about business in those first few years.

"Not quite."

"Ah," Lizzy said raising her eyebrows. It was obvious that I was not the first male suitor who had tried the tactic of pretending to be interested in her work. The real difference with me was that I wasn't pretending. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat but I'm really quite famished as I haven't had anything to eat since this morning so I'd like to get back to my room…"

"Well, that's convenient. I know this incredible little bistro just a few blocks from here. Nice quiet little place that's perfect for chatting."

"Listen, you're really quite cute," she said in a patronizing tone, "almost too cute, and I really appreciate the fact that you just assume I'm single…"

"Are you?" This flusters her.

"That's not important!" She says slightly louder than she intended. "Look, it's nothing personal but I make it policy to not date fellow students. Things just get too complicated."

"Good thing I'm not a student here then. Listen, I'm not proposing marriage here, I just want to offer someone who obviously has an enormous amount of knowledge on a subject that I am very fascinated by a meal in exchange for answering a few of my questions."

She looks mildly interested now.

"Just dinner?"

"Just dinner."

"And all I have to do is answer a few questions about my theories."

"Plain and Simple."

She gives in.

"Well then, lead the way, Sir."

I'm ripped back into the present as the train lurches to a halt. I hadn't realized I had fallen asleep. I wipe a tiny bit of drool from my sleeve and rub the fatigue out of eyes. My watch says that it is after midnight, and outside of the window I see Capitol Station. I'm home.

I take a taxi from the Station back to my Apartment Block. Normally, I would choose public transportation, but its Saturday night and the busses and trains will be crammed with drunks on their way home from the nightclubs or a party. Not everything has changed here.

We pull up to the outside of my building and I grab my single black backpack. It was a short trip, but after what I accomplished everything feels different. Now Peeta and the Mockingjay know who I am, they know about my family, and they know about what's happening to the Sixteen.

On the elevator ride to the top floor, I come to the realization that now I really can't fail on my mission to find out who is doing this. If something happens to me, the Mellarks will have another loss thrust upon them from the Snow family, and that is something that I will not allow to happen.

It's nearly one o'clock in the morning when I step toward my front door. Two guards who I have left to protect Lizzy in my absence nod in acknowledgement as they see me round the corner from the elevator.

"Welcome Home, Colonel."

"Thank you. Speaking of Home, you're both relieved. Get out of here you've done a great job."

"Are you sure you don't prefer us to stay until morning?"

"No, go ahead," I say as I swipe my thumbprint over the plate on the door. The lock clicks open. "I'm going right to bed."

"Yes, Sir." The two disappear around the corner back toward the elevators.

I quietly open the door; sure that Lizzy is asleep by now. I told her not to wait up for me. I should have known that she wouldn't listen. I look across the living and dining rooms toward the huge plate glass window that looks over the Capitol Skyline. Her back is to me. Her long hair is down and she's wrapped up in a cream colored silk robe. I try to be sneaky but we both know that she's heard me come in. She still plays along.

I tiptoe up behind her and then wrap her up in arms from behind. I lean over and take a deep breath. She smells like the sea after a storm. The ocean must be in her blood.

"Hey you," Lizzy whispers back to me.

"Hey." I can tell she wants to ask me everything but is afraid to in case something has gone wrong. She remembers that she is the one who forced me into this. Finally, after a few seconds, I finally answer the questions she hasn't asked.

"I met them," I say trying not to reveal too much.

"What did they say?" I stare into her beautiful green eyes, the ones Katniss said look like Finnick's.

"I told them about you," I say slightly changing the subject. "Peeta and Katniss both say that you're part of their family." A single tear runs down Lizzy's face.

"They would say that wouldn't they?" she says grinning from ear to ear. Lizzy can't fight the urge anymore and leans forward to kiss me. Our lips meet and it's like being wrapped in a warm blanket again. After a few blissful seconds our lips part and she remembers the other half of my mission.

"What about you? Did they figure out who were or did you have to tell them?"

"They figured it out."

"And?"

"They both forgave me." She lets out a deep sigh of relief and wraps her arms around me again. I look back down into her eyes.

"You can finally put that part of your life to rest."

"Not at all. I still have to find out who's causing the disappearances. The other fourteen have to be avenged. Until then nothing has changed."

Lizzy knows how serious I am. She looks back into my eyes this time.

"You don't know that the others who disappeared are dead."

"If they're not, then they probably wish they were by this point."

"Then for them and for you, you must succeed."

"Of course I will," I reply with the smirk I only get when I'm talking to my wife. "It was a mission from the Mockingjay herself."


	3. Chapter 3

We sleep late the next day. It's the bright rays of sunshine streaming in through the bedroom window that finally force me to open my eyes. Lizzy is jostled awake as I climb out of bed and check the time on my communicuff. I curse as I realize what time it is.

"What is it?" Lizzy asked through a relaxed, sleepy haze.

"It's almost noon," I say.

"What's the problem? You're on pass until tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Yes, but there's a lot I needed to get done: check on Venus, examine the latest intel briefs for President Holmes, and then go back and re-read the report on Juno Bunton. There's got to be something we've missed." Juno Bunton was the last of the Sixteen to disappear, vanishing last month from her apartment in District 1 where she was working as an apprentice jeweler. Her father, Gaius, was the Treasurer of Panem and one of the most important members of the Council of 10, cooking the books of the Central Bank to amass a ridiculous fortune for each of the Councilors while making it seem that all the Districts were still not producing enough to meet their quotas. Embezzlement does not even begin to describe the intricacy of their operations. It was State Policy. Millions starved while Snow and his cronies earned more than they could spend in a hundred lifetimes.

Lizzy sees that I'm becoming distracted.

"And I have a hundred Intro to Psychology papers to grade that were all probably cut and pasted from the Central Data Net. _Relax_. You'll never solve anything until you at first settle your thoughts." She says beckoning me to come join her again in bed. I try to resist at first, but then realize that the warm sheets will win out.

She cozies up next to me and I immediately become lost in the rhythmic beating of her heart as I lay my head on her chest.

"I visited Venus yesterday."

"How is she?"

"Upset that she had to be dragged from her cabin in District 7. She misses the peace and quiet of the forest."

"And she was old enough to remember what this place was like before…" I add trailing off.

"She understands why you had to bring her here, though. She knows it's for her own good."

"Does she? When I first told her about the disappearances she almost sounded relieved. I think she's been expecting something to happen like this our whole lives. Now, it's like the wait is finally over and we can get it done with."

"You know she really doesn't believe that?"

"I hope not, but I'm not so sure."

"Either way, we should invite her over for dinner tonight. Get her out of that windowless apartment that's constantly being watched by security guards."

"Yeah, you're right. I've been a very bad brother lately."

"You've been a very busy brother lately. Tell you what, I'll even make my famous fish-head stew." I grimace a bit as Lizzy says those words.

"You know I hate that stuff, right?" Lizzy glares back in my direction but then gets her trademark smirk.

"Yeah, but your sister doesn't," I shake my head but she just smiles. "Also, I went ahead and reserved the Spym for tomorrow morning at our usual time."

"Thank you. That was another thing I had to do," I say finally picking myself up toward the bathroom.

The Spym is another Capitol Tradition that survived the Revolution. A combination of the words, "Spa" and "Gymnasium" most of the larger buildings in the Capitol have one in their basement, but even the poorest blocks have a public one that everyone attends on a regular basis. In the Dark Days, there was no shortage of Avoxes to man the hundreds of massage rooms, saunas, and relaxation pools that catered to the Capitol's never ceasing desire for pleasure. The Avoxes are long gone, but the decadence remains, though in a far more muted form.

I refused to attend at first not wanting to deal with the personal connotations that would arise, but Lizzy, who loved having a place this far inland where she actually could have a decent swim, finally convinced me and then I was hooked. Both of us are early risers and since most other citizens don't attend until the evening, the Spym became our quiet place to build up a sweat and ready ourselves for the challenges of the day.

The next morning dawns and we pass from the elevator through the frescoed entrance to the Spym. Everything is still wonderfully quiet as the attendant hands a towel to Lizzy and me and wishes us a relaxing session.

"Don't get too angry," Lizzy whispers as she gives a quick peck to my lips and immediately heads to the jet pool. She saw that when I picked up my combatives bag upstairs that it would be one of those mornings. I veer to the right into the main gymnasium. It is deserted, just how I like it.

The heavy punching bag in the corner is an old enemy. I drop my gear on the floor, strip down to my tank top and shorts and then slip on my gloves. I steady myself, imagine the bag has come to life and begin to land punch after punch on its cracked, brown leather surface. I exhale with every strike. The blows become a channel through which my inner anxiety reaches the surface.

_Bam, Bam, Bam_, the strikes grow harder and faster. My mind drifts back to the conversation that I had the previous night with Venus:

My sister arrives almost half an hour late. However, this is not surprising considering that punctuality has never been one of her strong suits. I open the door and she immediately pushes pass me and straight toward the dining room. She is followed by her two body guards.

"Why don't you wait outside, guys?" They nod and quietly exit the room. "How're you doing, V?" I ask as if I didn't already know the answer. My sister is barely ten years older than me, but her long brown hair is already streaked with gray. I walk over to where she has sat down and hand her a glass of wine which I know is her favorite.

"If I had wanted to stay imprisoned with you, Ares, I would have chosen to stay in the Capitol rather than have you drag me back here."

"This place isn't a prison any more than your hideaway in the woods, and I didn't drag you back here, V. You know it was necessary for your safety. After Juno disappeared we knew we didn't have a choice."

"Then you could have at least made it a little more civilized than having a team of armed men show up at the door in the middle of the night. I was sure that my time had finally come."

"Well, if you had a phone installed in your cabin like I had asked you last year than we could have done things a little differently," I say not hiding my exasperation.

"So I can have people calling me whenever they want, breaking into my concentration to serve their purposes? You know that the security service would just tap it anyway." I love her but she frustrates the hell out of me. "I think we were very accommodating considering they even let you gather up your clay and tools before flying you back." Venus is actually an incredibly talented sculptor. A few of her works even have made it into museums around Panem…under pseudonyms, of course.

"Accommodating," she spits out under her breath. "That's all this country has ever been to us, hasn't it? They accommodated us by letting us live. They accommodated us by letting us disappear into the wilderness for the remainder of our short and pathetic lives. Well, now someone else is accommodating us by finally putting an end to our suffering. I just wish they would get it over with already. Death can't possibly be this unpleasant."

This last comment sends me over the edge. I grab the wine glass from her hand and throw it with all my might into the living room wall. Lizzy runs in from the kitchen, and Venus's bodyguards crash in through the front door.

"We're fine!" I scream as I wave for them to go back outside. Lizzy grabs my outstretched arm.

"Ares, don't you think that's enough?" she hisses at me. Lizzy hates it when I lose control.

"No, I don't think so," I say to Lizzy before turning back to my sister. "I think you know exactly how unpleasant death is, Venus, considering that's all the entertainment we had as children. Surely, you must remember how unpleasant it must have been for the tributes from the districts to get ripped apart by furry mutant squirrels, die in clouds of poisonous fog, or be burned alive by flowing lava?"

"You know that's not what I meant…" Venus tries to defend herself but I cut her off.

"Are you sure? Because that sounds a lot like Grandpa Snow's old line of thinking. The lives of the District Folk are so meaningless and pathetic that I might as well spend my time looking for ways to humiliate and torture them!"

"You bastard!" Venus shrieks back at me.

"Ares, that's enough!" Lizzy shouts at me. The world comes back into focus as I calm down a little.

"I'm sorry. But we're Snows," I say as quietly as I can. "If we ever hope to rejoin this country on equal terms we have to stop thinking that we can somehow justify the death of innocent people. Even if it's our own…"

What Venus says next just hurts even though I secretly believe she is right.

"But we're not innocent, are we, Ares?"

Lizzy's fish-head stew was eaten in silence. Then Venus went home. I can't even have a pleasant meal with my sister anymore. The world just keeps pushing in.

As I continue to punish the bag, both for the sins of others and my own. I am conscious that I am now drenched in sweat. My cotton tank top sticks to my skin and rivers are flowing down in front of my eyes but I do not stop; not yet. I end every punching bag session the same way.

I stare directly at the bag in front of me. I begin to picture a face forming on the surface of the brown leather. I've only seen this face in pictures, but it reminds me of my own and I am disgusted by it. The only things I do not recognize are the surgically enhanced puffy lips and the eyes…the snake-like eyes that must be more demon than man. The rest of his body takes shape on the bag; a white suit with a rose tucked into the lapel. Finally, a handkerchief tinged red with blood tucked into pocket.

My blows fall harder and harder. I strike at the body first, then to the face. I try to imagine what it would be like to feel the bones crunching under my knuckles; to see blood pour from his mouth and nose. Finally, it is time to land the death blow. I rear back, rocking all my weight onto my back foot. Then, in a flash I explode forward, landing every single ounce of power into a one inch square in the center of that evil face. The bag flies backward and the face is gone. I am alone again.

I wipe the sweat from my head with my towel as I walk toward the jet pool. Its entire heated surface is obscured by frothing bubbles hiding the bottom from view. I simply drop my bag at the edge, remove my shoes, and then dip my feet under the water. I look at my communicuff. This usually takes a while. She likes to play.

Fifteen, then twenty seconds pass.

"You're not scaring me," I yell loud enough so that it can be heard under the water. Thirty seconds pass and still nothing. Finally, just shy of a minute, I've had enough.

"Lizzy!" I yell. Then, a head of sopping wet red hair breaks through the bubble screen.

"I didn't even scare you a little bit?" Lizzy asks.

"I swear you must be part fish."

"Maybe I am. Who knows what the Capitol's scientists have done to the Odair's DNA over the generations?" I know she is joking but the realization that it is entirely within the realm of possibility that she might be right momentarily horrifies me. I push the thought of having children with scales and gills out of mind. "Did you get out what you needed to get out?" she asks hopefully.

"For the most part. I guess I just feel so powerless from this whole situation. Like I have no control over anything anymore."

"You know you owe a Venus an apology?"

"Yeah, I know. I keep forgetting that she's spent the last 16 years in a one room log cabin alone with her thoughts."

"More importantly she hasn't found anyone to help her focus on what really matters."

"I guess I'm lucky in that regard," I say messing up Lizzy's hair even more. She rapidly paddles ten feet back into the pool.

"I think you just need a good swim to sort things out. Always works for me, and I don't have to worry about bruised and bleeding knuckles."

"I'm not from District 4, and I'm not part fish."

"Well, if you're scared of water, I understand." Lizzy already realizes this isn't the case but knows exactly how to push my buttons.

"C'mon, I'm all sweaty."

"So am I."

"Fine," I say stripping off my tank top and pushing off the ledge into the bubbles. The effect of the warm, swirling water on my sore muscles is immediate. She swims over and wraps me up in her arms and legs. I have to tread water for the both of us.

"See, isn't this nice."

"Yeeesss," I say not wanting to be too agreeable.

We spend the next half hour chasing each other around the pool, diving above and below the water laughing and splashing like two small children blissfully ignorant of a harsh and unforgiving world. I don't even want to think of what my life would be like if I had decided to skip the lecture of Elizabeth Odair that one day six years ago. Would I be as lost as my sister is now? Totally jaded by life and actually looking forward to the possibility of an early death? Could that be even called life?

Suddenly, my communicuff starts beeping on my wrist. It's 0700.

"I've got to go," I say looking into Lizzy's eyes.

"I know. Go," Lizzy say nodding toward the edge of the pool. I swim back to my things and hoist myself out of the water.

"Are you going to stay?" I ask as I towel off.

"Just a few more minutes, not quite ready to get out of the water yet."

"Alright, just don't grow flippers while you're in there!" I say turning and walking toward the men's locker room.

"Oh, you be quiet!" Lizzy yells after me giggling. "Just be sure you don't take too long in the shower yourself! You know how she can't stand it when you're late."

Lizzy is right, of course. The President of Panem hates to be kept waiting.


	4. Chapter 4

I stand on the subway platform of the commuter station as the train rushes past. The blast of air hits me as the brakes screech and the cars come to a lumbering halt. I push my way toward the opening doors with the rest of the crowd and squeeze aboard. The doors close, the conductor makes an unintelligible announcement over the loudspeaker, and the train once again speeds on in its journey toward the Government District.

I look down to check that my uniform was not affected by the jostling of those around me, an obsession of mine at this point, but the work I've done to earn the right to wear it makes it this way. Once again, however, the name tag is noticeably absent. Even here, in the heart of the Capitol, I feel it is not safe to reveal who I really am. I glance over to a younger woman who looks up to me and smiles respectfully which reinforces my decision. All these people see is a servant of the nation, not the descendant of the one who enslaved it. I smile back and nod.

Stop after stop and the commuters begin to filter out of the doors as their destinations are reached. My stop comes last, Capitol Center. A few other uniforms of various services exit the train with me and head towards the escalators. As the moving stairs bring us back into brilliant sunlight from the depths below, I reach for my beret, fit it to my head, and begin the five block walk to the Ministry of Defense. It is a massive stone and marble behemoth constructed decades ago to serve as the official headquarters of the Peacekeepers, but since the Revolution, thousands of free souls from all over Panem now call it their place of work. Its façade is decorated with idyllic scenes of peace of tranquility from the Twelve Districts (13 has still yet to be added, a fact often maligned by that district's representatives in the legislature). Previously, these scenes were more ironic than anything else. Everyone knew that the so called "Peacekeepers" were nothing of the sort, but now there is a real belief that the work being done inside is actually for the good of the country rather than for its continued subservience.

I walk up fifty marble steps, through the massive bronze doors that guard the entrance, and into the cathedral sized front lobby. Sunlight streams in from the skylights and glints off the black marble floor. In the very center, lies a ten foot wide, by ten foot long, by ten foot tall white marble pedestal. It is empty now and kept that way on purpose. Until the fall of the Capitol, that pedestal housed a fifty foot tall statue of my grandfather. The victorious rebels pulled it down, hauled it down the front steps, and proceeded to smash it to pieces in the square below. The remains are currently on permanent display in Freedom Park a few blocks away. They have become a popular tourist destination for the newly emancipated District Folk with means to travel to the once off-limits Capitol. I can't imagine how many people across Panem now have a picture of themselves standing in front of President Snow's eternally stoic yet cracked face in their family photo album.

I approach the bank of ten elevators in the rear of the lobby. A security guard stops me and holds out a small black box. I mindlessly flash my communicuff across its surface. A flashing green holographic picture of my face appears floating in mid-air a few inches above it.

"Good morning, Colonel. Have a nice a day," the guard says before waving me past.

"You too," I say as I walk toward the elevator.

I press a button, the doors open and I enter the car. It is only after I am safely alone and heading downward into the underground labyrinth that I feel it is safe. I reach into my pocket, pull out my nametag and affix it to my shirt. I can only be myself down here, away from the prying eyes of the public.

I arrive at Sub-basement 10 and the elevator lets me out into a sterile white hallway. At the far end is a set of silver doors simply marked "Central Briefing." Another guard and another check of my communicuff and I am inside a dimly lit circular room two hundred feet across. Banks of computer monitors surround the edges of the space and are all attended by a small army of technicians and analysts pouring over reports from all over the world. Since mankind's past wars have destroyed the global satellite network that once dominated world communications, it is now up to teams of highly trained intelligence specialists to receive briefs from our various networks and spies we have stationed across the planet, decipher them, and compile them into meaningful data. It is a slow, laborious process, but we have no alternative.

A massive holographic globe is projected into the center of the room fifteen feet over a wooden conference table. Despite having seating for twenty-five, only four places are set. This is the usual for briefings as the table is only full during national emergencies. An analyst hands me a print-out of the daily briefs before taking her place at the table. There are a few minutes till the President arrives, so I sit down next to her to see if anything significant has occurred since the last briefing. Nothing, no changes.

I curse under my breath as I realize that any mention of the Sixteen has once again been omitted. My view is that this chain of events is indeed a threat to national security simply because whoever is doing this has the capability to travel across Panem in total secrecy, target civilians whose identities are supposed to be a closely guarded State secret, and disappear again without leaving behind any evidence. My view is not shared. Except for myself, the Sixteen are seen as a painful reminder of a past that is best left forgotten.

The doors open, and in walk two figures. A large, muscular man in a uniform not dissimilar from my own and a short, graying woman dressed in a very demure navy blue suit. The first is General Wade Sturm, Chief of the United Districts of Panem Defense Forces. He was a young rebel leader from District 2 during the Revolution, significant considering that District's particular loyalty to the Capitol. Since so many of his family actually sided with the Regime, he has a particular personal hatred of anything associated with it, especially me. If he had his way, I'd probably be spending the rest of my life suffering in the newly re-opened graphite mines of District 13, as far away from the seat of government as possible. The woman is President Driva Holmes, a true rarity among career politicians because despite her no-nonsense groomed exterior, she actually makes a fairly good impression of being a decent human being. Originally from District 6, she was not directly involved in the fighting of the Revolution, but was instrumental in building a stable government afterward. She was that District's first representative in the legislature after the war and soon earned enough respect from her compatriots to be nominated to the office of President.

The two take their seats at the table across from me. Sturm gives his usual malicious glare indicating that he is ready the briefing. President Holmes shuffles through some notes of her own before saying:

"Alright, what's going on in the world that affects Panem today?"

I begin. "Tensions are still high across the East Asian Frontier," I say as the analyst next to me rotates the holographic globe to the appropriate angle. "Pirates associated with the Nippon Shogunate are beginning to raid commerce vessels with more impunity as they attempt to negotiate the Kuomingtang straights to reach the mainland. Though there have been no overt military actions as of yet, opening up trade with the east could become more dangerous."

The President asks a few pointed questions about whether or not our naval force has reached a sufficient level to combat the increased pirate threat. I simply respond with the same facts that we have presented for the past two years as international trade has become an increased priority. She makes a few scribbles on the notepad in front of her and we move on.

"The Trans-European Commonwealth has recently launched another offensive against the rebel stronghold of Britannia, but again the rebel's strategic use of anti-aircraft defenses has stopped any real forward momentum that TEC forces were hoping to build…"

After the global war which devastated the planet almost three centuries ago, the entire face of the earth changed. Over half of the world's population was lost to the violence and resulting hunger and disease. Most established governments collapsed into ruin. The natural progression was that the weak became subordinated to the strong. However, there were two distinctly different results. Many countries retreated back toward earlier forms of governance, even into downright tribalism. However, a few countries gathered together into tight centrally controlled oligarchies with varying degrees of limited personal freedom. Panem was one of them, the Trans-European Commonwealth was another. But unlike Panem, which decided to limit the distribution of technological advancements to merely the citizens of its Capitol, The Commonwealth, or TEC for short, forced technology upon its entire population. Every citizen had the best health care, plenty of highly nutritious food grown in underground hydroponic gardens and a sterile living unit in one of dozens of steel cities that soared upwards to the sky. However, this came at a terrible price. The citizens of the TEC also had the most advanced surveillance system ever devised. Any form of dissent or anti-government sentiment was detected and crushed within hours. Over the decades, the populace simply became a race of mindless drones with no hope of liberation or freedom. The few brave souls that resisted this punishing onslaught, fortified themselves on the island of Britannia and have lived independently, but under constant bombardment for the better part of two centuries. After the Revolution, our agents have started to reach out to the Britannia rebels with little success. Due to our own limitations, we have been unable to provide any sources of real aid and we fear that Britannia may not be able to last more than a few more years at this rate.

I continue my briefing and we come to its conclusion. Both General Sturm and President Holmes seemed satisfied, but I am not.

"Excellent as always, Colonel Snow, keep up the good work," President Holmes says packing up her notes. "I'll have a lot to discuss at this afternoon's meeting of the legislative defense sub-committee." As much as I hate to admit it, General Sturm knows me better than I'd like and sees that I'm about to say something more. He gives me an angry, slow shake of his head, but I pretend not to notice.

"There is one more thing, Madame President," I say resolutely. "I think we need to continue to reexamine the case files of the missing fourteen." General Sturm slams his hand down on the table with a loud bang that makes the analysts sitting at their computers jump. I am unfazed.

"We've been over this, Snow! I realize that this issue has some _personal_ meaning for you (I could swear that by the way he says "personal" he's hoping that I'm the next to disappear) but the UDP can simply not expend any more energy that could be used for other things on this wild goose chase!"

"Sir, it is not a wild goose chase! Whoever is doing this obviously has breached our highest levels of security to find out information on the Sixteen and could easily have acquired other highly sensitive information that could be used to destroy everything we've worked for! I refuse to believe that this person or persons is perfect. There must be something! Something we've missed. If I could just have a few more resources at my disposal we could stop this now…"

"Out of the Question!"

"That's enough, both of you!" President Holmes' voice silences us both. "Colonel Snow, I understand how difficult this must be for you. Your service to the UDP has been of the highest caliber and I wish we could do something more, but I'm afraid that General Sturm is correct. Without clues, we have nothing more to go on. There have been no other signs that any other classified information has been compromised and until that happens, I simply cannot in good conscience dedicate any more resources to this issue than I have already. I have approved the move of your sister to the Capitol and the additional security elements for her and your protection but that is all we can do. Period. Do you understand?"

It is pointless to continue fighting when both of them are against me.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good," she says as she stands up from the table. General Sturm and I also both rise in unison. He flashes me a look that lets me know I will pay dearly for my actions at a later date. Honestly, I don't care. "Also, Colonel Snow, don't forget that you have your monthly armaments briefing with Mr. Ohm at the Special Defense Lab today at precisely 1300. I don't want to get any reports from him that you were late again. He's a very busy man."

"No, Ma'am. I'll be on time."

"Excellent, Good Day to you, Colonel." She and General Sturm exit Central Briefing without any further comment. As I collect my notes, the analyst who's been sitting next to me the whole time flashes an understanding look in my direction.

"Well, at least somebody here cares about us," I think.


	5. Chapter 5

The name of Rikard Ohm may never have been remembered if the Capitol had not fallen, but now he has since become a national hero: a symbol of the will to triumph over injustice. Born in District 3, he was a technical genius, groomed from a very young age to lead their factories. Ohm had what the locals there call, "techno sense." It was as if machines could actually speak to him.

Quickly catching the eyes of the Capitol Science Establishment, at age 18 he was moved to Snow's Classified Research Division, a top secret program designed to create the next generation of advanced weaponry for the Peacekeeper force. There was not a single instrument of death that Ohm did not excel at producing. Everything from new forms of machine guns, rockets, vehicles, poison gas, and even biological muttations flowed from his factory hidden beneath the mountains of District 2. Over the next decade, he moved up the rungs of leadership in the Capitol ladder till at last he was the direct munitions advisor to the Council of 10. Fifteen years before the war that would be those tyrants' downfall, there was even talk about adding Ohm himself to the Council until they made a request that not even he could honor.

The Council was completely aware of the existence of District 13 and its nuclear arsenal aimed directly at the Capitol. Not satisfied with mere coexistence, President Snow realized that only 13 could truly threaten his stranglehold on power and wanted the ability to strike the first blow. He ordered Ohm to construct a nuclear missile of unprecedented power that could penetrate thousands of feet below the surface of District 13 and detonate, literally turning the last hold-out of hope in Panem into a glowing crater. Ohm realized that even the best designed missile in the world could still be detected by 13 before it struck, giving just enough time to launch a counterstrike that could and probably would obliterate all life on the continent. In a move that would be categorized as one of the most selfless acts of the modern age, Ohm flatly refused, but with dire consequences.

President Snow decided that if Rikard Ohm would not serve him as his chief weapons designer, he would simply serve him. One evening, a squad of Peacekeepers forced their way into Ohm's Capitol Penthouse, kicked him to his knees, and forced him to watch as they put a single bullet into the heads of his wife and young son. Ohm was then taken to a room deep within Peacekeeper headquarters, strapped to a table, and without anesthesia had his tongue ripped from his mouth. The man who was once widely considered the most influential person to ever come out of the Districts was sentenced to a life of slavery as Snow's personal Avox.

For the next fifteen years, he suffered in silence, doing every menial chore that passed through Snow's deranged mind. He cleaned the presidential apartments, he was forced to lay out Snow's clothes every morning, and at every state dinner banquet, Ohm was required to stand directly behind the President with a bottle of wine and forced to fill Snow's glass while being gawked at by every influential citizen of Panem who had once even called him "friend." Every infraction was met with the harshest of beatings, the worst of humiliation, and the most gruesome of tortures to include being made to watch for hours on end the murder of his family which the Peacemakers had recorded on camera.

It seemed that Ohm's fate was sealed until in an almost ironic twist, the very district that he had saved from destruction rose to liberate him. As rebel soldiers pushed through the front gates of the Presidential Mansion on the day of liberation, they were confronted by a single man standing in the courtyard. His body was worn down from years of pain and his head of auburn hair was thinning and gray, but in his eyes was burning hate.

Just as the rebels raised their guns to shoot, he silently held up his hand and beckoned them to follow him. Ohm led the fighters straight into the mansion, up the central staircase, through the banquet hall and down a long hallway directly to a simple wooden door. Behind it was a green house filled with bush after bush of perfect roses. The scent in the air was overpowering, a scent that burned Ohm's soul to the very core as it was forever associated with his cruel master. With the rebels still behind him, he walked to a closet set into the back wall, opened it, and revealed the last desperate hiding place of Present Coriolanus Snow.

That alone would have been remarkably enough, but Ohm revived his technical genius after the war. Emancipated, but still not able to speak, he set to work and created an invention that would not only give him back his own voice, but the voices of all who had them stolen. He called it "the ReeVox," a fitted collar that could be worn around an Avox's voice box and turn the tiny vibrations in their throats into nearly life-like digital speech. The impact of this was immediate and profound.

With the help of donations, the new government purchased thousands of ReeVoxes and distributed them to the surviving Avox population. Voices that had been silent in some cases for almost fifty years were suddenly heard again. Ohm was hailed as genius and hero to the People. His fortune restored, the Defense Ministry offered him another position: Chief of Special Defense. Given free rein to design military hardware once again, Ohm would create technology, produce it in his newly reopened District 2 factory, and sell it to the UDP at deeply discounted rates in exchange for certain guarantees that the new government would not search elsewhere for weapons development. It was a very tidy arrangement. The UDP was able to re-arm itself with some of the most advanced hardware in the world while Ohm ensured that the government who freed him from slavery would never fall, and make a very handsome profit in the process. This secret deal never sat very well with me. Unfortunately, it was now another one of my duties to meet with Ohm once a month to review and approve his latest inventions before they went into full scale production.

At precisely 1300, I walk through the door of the Special Weapons Lab in the Ministry. It is, in fact, not a lab at all but simply a showroom designed to display the latest and greatest achievements of one man's troubled genius. The worst part of these meetings is that Ohm always insists on conducting them one on one with me.

His back is to me as I walk into the room. The gray-jumpsuited figure topped with the mop of long white hair is unmistakable.

"Good Afternoon, Colonel Snow. Glad to see that you are on time this month," I hear in a high-pitched tone that is neither completely human nor completely machine but somewhere in between. Slowly he turns and I am confronted with a sunken white face and glaring sky-blue eyes. The polished silver Reevox collar around his neck gleams under the halogen lighting of the room. Every time I see him, the thought crosses my mind that he has somehow transcended a barrier and begun to merge with the technology he loves so much.

"Afternoon, Sir," I say trying to sound cordial.

"Please," he says politely back, gesturing to a stainless steel table piled high with equipment. "We have much to see." The fact that I hear words but his mouth remains motionless is still jarring. Though it is no different than the other Avoxes I have known, it is always somehow more disconcerting coming from Ohm.

The first thing that he picks up is a black assault rifle.

"I call it the Mark 17. I designed it primarily for special strike forces that must move quickly with the maximum amount of firepower." He hands me the rifle, I must admit I am impressed.

"It's light," I say reflexively. "Almost too light."

"Yes, it is primarily composed of advanced polymers and a few alloys of my personal creation. I assure you, it exceeds the standards of ruggedness and reliability that you have come to expect from my designs."

"What does it fire?" He reaches down to the table and picks up a gently curved plastic magazine.

"It fires a new six millimeter armor piercing round…also of my design." He gestures to the back corner of the room where a training dummy has been dressed in full body armor. A one- inch thick steel plate is set up three feet directly in front of it. "Please, indulge yourself."

I am very skeptical that this weapon will have any effectiveness at this kind of target, but I have been surprised by Ohm's technology before and humor him. I slap the magazine into the bottom of the rifle, chamber a round with a satisfying click, and take aim.

"Fits comfortably into the shoulder, controls seem very intuitive, I like the sights," I say trying to sound as scientific as possible.

"Just wait till you fire it."

Slowly I squeeze the trigger. I fire off three quick bursts, emptying the entire magazine. There is nothing but the loud thunder of automatic fire and the sharp ping of bullets impacting on steel. Then, the room slowly returns to silence as the echoes bouncing from the sterile walls fade.

I am stunned by the results. Every single one of the thirty rounds has placed a clean hole straight through the steel plate. I circle around behind and take stock of the dummy, or should I say what's left of the dummy. The bullets sheared clean through the body armor and through the rubber torso as well, almost neatly cutting the thing in half.

All I manage to say is, "I'm glad you're on our side."

"I'll take that as you approve of the design?"

"I definitely think it is something we can use."

The next hour is spent reviewing various other destructive devices until we reach the final item, a tiny metal cube that is only a single square inch.

"What is this?" I ask. "Some kind of explosive?"

"No, nothing so crude. I've been examining how to solve the problem of global tracking since the satellite network was destroyed. This device transmits a special wave-form that uses the atmosphere as an amplifier. Simply put, once activated the device sends out a signal that can be located to within a few inches anywhere in the world."

"Our intelligence branch would certainly love to have it. Not to mention it would be very useful in locating pick-up sites and downed pilots."

"My thoughts exactly."

We have come to the end of the show.

"As always, you have been very impressive, Sir."

"I am merely a citizen doing his duty to protect his nation. The same as you." Then, without warning, Ohm hands me the locator. "I thought that you'd might like to keep that."

"Why?"

"I think you know why," he says calmly. I suddenly realize what he's getting at.

"How do you know about the disappearances?" I say trying to hide my shock and anger.

"In order to keep better abreast of the possible threats to Panem, President Holmes and General Sturm make the intelligence briefs available to me. I admit, the disappearance of your fourteen comrades is what gave me the idea for that device in the first place. I think it is only fitting that its first use would be for that cause."

"You want me to give it to Venus. She would be the next one to disappear," I say incredulously as I realize his plan.

"That would be a logical assumption."

"But it's only a locator. They would have to take her for me to find them."

"Sometimes we have to make sacrifices in order to accomplish a higher good. As long as you track her movement, you should be able to find her before they are able to harm her, _if_ they are going to harm her. Ideally, you would be able to find the others, rescue them if they are still alive, and catch the culprits responsible."

"By using my own sister as bait!" I am sure that his heart must be more machine than man now as well.

"What alternative do you have? Holmes and Sturm will not help you. The choice is yours." I flinch as I realize that he is right. Slowly, I reach down and take the locator from his outstretched hand. "Whether you believe it is right now or not is irrelevant. Hopefully, the results will justify your actions."

"You better be right," I say as I slip the device into my pocket. I turn to leave the room and walk back toward the door.

The artificial voice of Ohm has one more thing to say to me as I leave.

"As you look inside yourself now you are probably wondering if this makes you a worse human being for considering this course of action. Remember, Ares, Introspection is a dangerous thing. You might not like what you find." The way he uses my first name makes my skin crawl.

Outside, in the hallway, I am alone with my thoughts. I just cannot bring myself to the realization that I was even thinking about putting my own flesh and blood at risk when suddenly a dark figure appears, grabs my collar, and slams me into the wall.

"Nice to see you too, Sir." It is General Sturm. Obviously, he hasn't forgotten the little incident this morning.

"Shut your filthy mouth and listen close. You go behind my back in a briefing to the President again and I will make it my personal mission in life to see that you never see the light of another day again, understand?" I angrily rip his hands off of me.

"That's a pretty interesting thing to say considering current events, Sir." I say refusing to back down.

"What exactly are you implying, Colonel?"

"I'm merely pointing out that your history seems to point out a possible conflict of interest." He takes a few steps back.

"Just how well do you think you know me, Snow?"

'Well enough."

"Do you," he says with a sarcastic chuckle. "Did it ever occur to you think why I joined the Rebellion?" I pause as he turns away.

"I've never told this to anyone before, and I have no idea why I'm saying this to you now. Maybe so that someone else will remember her when I'm gone.

I had a sister once. Her name was Lucia, and all I ever wanted to do was protect her. I even trained to be a Career in the Games so that if she was ever reaped I could take her place in the arena. When the war started, she had a job as a clerk in the Nut. One night, my father found a pile of documents hidden under her bed. She had stolen them with the hope that she could pass them to the rebels and shorten the violence. He turned her into the Peacemakers, our own father turned her in! When they arrived at our home that evening, they took her out to the backyard and shot her like a dog. Let me assure you, I would _never_ in this lifetime put someone else through the experience of losing a sister, no matter how I felt personally."

"Then give me the resources I need to find who is responsible for this, Sir!"

"You know I can't do that. I meant what I said up there earlier."

"Then we're as good as dead."

"We're all as good as dead, Snow. It's just a matter of how we choose to go out." Sturm walks away and disappears down the corridor.

It is at that moment I know what I must do.


	6. Chapter 6

As I feel the elevator car slow down as it approaches the lobby, I reach up to my nametag and pull it off, placing it gently in my pocket next to Ohm's small metal cube. My fingers run over its smooth cold surface once again as I consider his advice for the hundredth time. As the doors open, I walk toward the outside, lost in a train of thought that alternates between confusion and anger. The startling revelation about General Sturm's long dead sibling casts a whole new light on him. Was he always as he was, brutish and stubborn? Or perhaps was he a kind and gentle soul, driven to aggression not because of some character flaw, but the excruciating torment of losing someone so dear to him. Could that same personality shift happen to me if Venus were ripped away? Would I even last long enough against this hidden enemy afterwards to notice? My sister still lives and breathes, but the tighter I try to hold on to her, the more I feel like she is slipping away. Will I be the one to seal her fate? Am I willing to possibly sacrifice her if it means saving myself? Is revenge on those who caused this worth a price that very well be my soul? I think I'm starting to understand what Ohm's cryptic words on introspection meant. As I walk past the empty pedestal, I cannot help but think I may be starting down a predestined path that will one day make me just like the figure that once stood upon it.

The sun is barely beginning to drop behind the western mountains as I exit the Ministry. Slowly, I make my way down the steps and mindlessly move toward the subway station. "Conflicted" does not even begin to describe my feelings however I know that Ohm's locator may be the only way even if it means losing the very person I want to protect.

The escalator is packed with bodies, oblivious to the world around them as they jabber on, voices echoing off the tile walls. My train is late, which is not unusual during the rush hour, but today I find it particularly irritating because it means that I will have to suffer without Lizzy's kind and wise words a few minutes longer.

When I finally arrive home, I can hear Lizzy in the bedroom speaking on the videophone.

"Listen, I understand what you're saying but you need to realize that it's not Ares' fault."

"How can it not be his fault? He keeps putting you in these situations. Over and over again he's taking risks that he can't afford to. Like it or not, his name has a reputation that has made a lot of enemies and I don't want him dragging you down with him," says a voice on the other end that I recognize immediately.

"Well, this day just keeps getting better and better," I mutter under frustrated breath. I throw my satchel on the floor, strip off my uniform jacket, and head to the refrigerator for a drink.

"What do you mean 'drag me down with him' are you implying that he's somehow holding me here in the Capitol against my will," she says trying to hide her irritation.

"Of course not," the other voice continues. "It's just that I've never understood what you see in him…"

"Don't start that again. Ares is a loving, wonderful man who's always done his best to be kind to you and the rest of the family. They've accepted him as one of their own, why can't you?"

"Because I spent every day of my childhood suffering as I watched my mother retreat inside her mind fighting a pain I could nothing about because of what that man did to our family."

"Ares didn't do anything! Annie's torment was because of something done almost ten years before he was even born!" I rub my eyes in the kitchen just wishing she didn't love me so much. I hate hearing her have to defend me when sometimes I don't even want to defend myself.

There is a long pause. "I'm sorry, Lizzy. I know you're right. It's just I can't look at Ares and not help but think how much better our lives could have been if there had never been any Snows in the world."

"In case you haven't realized it yet, I'm a Snow now too, Finnie."

"Maybe on paper, but your heart is pure Odair. Just consider my offer, ok?" There is silence for a few seconds. "Ok?" he asks again more forcefully.

"Alright, I'll consider it," Lizzy fires back exasperatingly.

"It's just because I love you so much, Lizzy. You're like the big sister that I nev…" he pauses, "I mean _could_ ever have." His last comment hits me like a punch to the stomach.

"I love you too, Finnie." There is a click as the line disconnects. I sit perfectly still in the kitchen leaning against the countertop. Lizzy finally enters from the bedroom. "Hey baby," she says in a surprised tone as she realizes my presence. "I didn't hear you come in." A worried look suddenly crosses her face. "How much did you hear?" I take another sip from my bottle.

"How is Finnick doing these days?"

Finnick Odair Jr., Lizzy's loving, if not always supportive cousin, and child of Annie and Finnick Odair Sr. The two were inseparable growing up together. He often leaned on her for support considering he never knew his father and his mother was often unreachable in her far off dazed fugues. However, after she went away to the Capitol to study at the University, fell in love with, and got engaged to a man named Snow, he very nearly disowned her. For years after we got married, I heard about the fight the two of them had. Once, one of Lizzy's brothers even told me that the fight was so loud that he could hear it at his house two full blocks away. Seeing her son and adopted daughter lash out at each other with such harsh and spiteful words over Lizzy's love for a Snow, member of the clan that robbed her of both her innocence and one true Love, put Annie into such a deep depression that Lizzy had to stay in District 4 for two months to nurse her back to health. Finnick Jr. took to the seas in his fishing boat and was not home for almost four months. This ended up being a blessing in disguise (for me at least) because it allowed a chance for the Odairs to meet me without risking Finnick's wrath. After Lizzy had brought her Aunt back to the land of the living, she convinced me to come to District 4, formally introduce myself and ask for her blessing.

I was able to show Annie just how much I did indeed love her niece, and that I was not an inhuman beast. That was when she and the rest of the Odairs came around to me. Unfortunately, Finnick Jr. never did and never has since. When we were married in District 4 six months after his return, he was not in attendance.

"He is doing fine," Lizzy manages to say a little defensively.

"Still probably not going to make the guest list for his Liberation Day Barbecue this year, am I?" Lizzy manages a laugh. She crosses toward me and wraps me up in her embrace. As I kiss her lips, I am overcome by her love, beauty, and the smell of the sea.

"I just love you so much," I say trying not to lose it. I honestly cannot believe that somehow I convinced this woman, so already in love with people who were victimized by the name "Snow," to fall in love with me and take that hated epithet as her own. It confounds every piece of logic in my being, but maybe that's what hope for the future is: love flying in the face of logic.

"You're my world; my whole world," she replies gazing right into me. My heart falls in my chest as I realize that despite all my efforts I may not be a part of it much longer. "Don't worry about Finnick. He's just worried about you," Lizzy says. I can immediately tell she is lying.

"Right," I respond sarcastically. "I know how much he hates me. The conversation in there was a pretty good hint"

"Ares, please give him some credit. He was very civil to you at Annie's funeral."

"If by civil you mean didn't say a single word to me the whole time. When Annie told me it was now my job to protect you instead of him, I thought he was going to leap across the room right then and there and strangle me."

"He cares about you more than you think. Seriously, with the disappearances in the last year, he's concerned about what might happen to you."

"You told him about the disappearances!" I find myself shouting as I step back from her. "Elizabeth Odair Snow, _no one_ outside of the Ministry is supposed to have any knowledge of those. Hell, no one outside of the Ministry is supposed to have any knowledge of the Sixteen in the first place!"

"Well, you've done a great job keeping that secret yourself, Ares!" she fires back, her eyes showing she will give no ground. I know I've crossed the line and look down to the floor shamefully. I feel Lizzy drawing close again. She slowly lifts my chin till our eyes meet again.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what's getting into me lately."

"I understand Ares. Believe me, I do. The strain of seeing those you grew up with just vanish into thin air, the knowledge that Venus or you could be next must be crushing. But you have to understand this too: he's my family as much as you are." I can tell she says the next thing without thinking. "With Annie gone, I'll need him more than ever if something were to happen to…" she stops herself abruptly, hoping I won't finish her words, but I do.

"…if something were to happen to me." It is now Lizzy's turn to look down shamefully and my turn to lift her eyes back to mine. "You're right. You're absolutely right. I don't know what's going to happen tonight or tomorrow, or even the day after. All I know is that I want to live in this moment with you right here." I see a look of contentment creep across her face.

"What was the offer that Finnick wanted you to consider?" I ask. Lizzy pauses awkwardly.

"He…he wants me to come and stay with him in District 4. He thinks it's too dangerous for me in the Capitol right now."

"I think you should consider his offer as well."

"You want to send me away? Right when we need each other the most?" she says angrily.

"Not at all. The thought of sending you away kills me, but not as much as proving Finnick correct in his fears if something does happen to you. It's hard enough for me to face him as it is."

"_Nothing_ will ever happen to me as long as I have you right at my side. I'm sure of it because I know that you will protect me just like you protect Venus." Ohm's plan suddenly pushes back into my consciousness and I pull back from her again. "What's wrong?" I take a few steps backward, pull the metal cube from my pocket, and place it on the counter in front of her. "What is that?" she asks nervously.

"It could be a way to ensure that you and I live a long and happy life together, but it could also come with a terrible price." I make sure that my demeanor lets her know that I am deadly serious. "I have a plan, but I won't do anything without your permission."

"For God's sake, why do you need my permission?" She actually appears to be frightened now.

"Because Finnick is right about one thing: I am still a Snow, and I need you, with your Odair's heart, to be my conscience."


	7. Chapter 7

The next evening, I make the slow walk down the dimly lit hallway toward Venus' apartment door. Two more bodyguards wait outside. They snap to attention when they see me approach.

"Relax, relax," I say quietly, not wanting to be heard inside the apartment. "How is she? Anything significant?"

"Negative, Sir. She hasn't left the place all day. Whenever we try to check on her, she just yells at us to leave her alone."

"Roger, Thank You," I say swiping my thumb across the lock and slowly opening the door.

As I step inside and close the door behind me, I see Venus sitting in the living room. Her back is to me as she sits on a stool in front of a wooden table. Her hair is tied in a sloppy bun behind her head and a stained white apron is tied behind her neck. Her hands are covered with wet, red clay and though I cannot see what they are working on, it seems methodical and focused.

I take a few steps toward her before she raises her right index finger motioning for me to wait. I look into the kitchen to see that it is as untouched as it was the last time I was here.

"They say you haven't left the apartment all day."

"Maybe if they hadn't been so busy spying on me for you all day that would have seen that I had work to do." She says without moving her gaze from her project.

"They're not spying for me, Venus. They're just making sure that you're still safe."

"Those are the same thing to me," she mutters angrily. "You know what the hardest part of the last twenty years has been for me, little brother? Knowing that even when I'm totally by myself, off in my cabin and trying to shut out this miserable place we're forced to live in, I'm never really alone. Every move I make is probably tracked by some thermal camera on a high flying drone, or by some sensitive microphone hidden in the trees outside my window."

"You could have chosen to stay like me."

"Then I'd have been watched even more closely…like you are, little brother." She still hasn't turned to look at me.

"You're probably right, V." I turn back and look at the kitchen again. "Have you at least eaten something today?"

"Of course, not. I haven't signed up for my tesserae like you have."

"What are you talking about?"

"You seem so anxious to stay in this world that you've never actually wondered if it is worth staying in. So, you let the government do with you as they please in exchange for a few meager scraps of sustenance, which in your case is just enough tolerance to make you doubt who you really are."

"Venus, you're not making any sense. You have to eat something."

"And why is that, Ares?"

"To keep you alive!"

"'Man shall not live by bread alone'" I remember hearing that somewhere and found it very fitting considering the name of our great nation. However, for us Snows especially, I think a more fitting phrase is 'Man shall not continue to live _for_ bread alone.'"

"I still don't understand, V."

"There, finished," she says with an abrupt sense of contentment. She pushes herself away from the table and proudly displays what she has been working on. It is a Mockingjay, rendered in stunning clay detail, but it is chained to the branch it sits upon. She looks at me, trying to find the expected sense of outrage in my eyes, but there is only sadness and confusion.

"You're scaring me, Venus. Really, you are."

"All I want to do is be free, Ares. I want to soar through blue skies and sing at the top of my lungs, but it will never happen, because as I long as I am here I will never be Venus, I will only be _Venus Snow_. The only reason they decided not to kill us when we were children is that by doing so they would become too much like _us_, bloodthirsty, callous, and pitiless.

"Venus, that was _not _us."

"Are you sure? You forget, little brother, that I was old enough to watch the Games sitting on Grandpa's knee in the Presidential Mansion, but those were not the traumatic reruns that were forced upon us later to drive us insane. That was a grandfather showing his granddaughter what he was capable of, and with his commentary, I learned to love the Hunger Games as he did. I marveled at the spectacle, followed the tributes, cheered for the favorites, and reveled in the carnage just like him. I _wanted_ those District peons to die for my entertainment. Then, after the Rebels won, I spent five years being tormented by the realization that I was, in fact, a sadistic psychopath for letting those thoughts enter my brain. Youth and innocence protected you, Dear Ares, you were the youngest of us all, and therefore had the least sins to repent for. Why do you think you were the only one who chose to stay in the Capitol? I'll tell you why. It's because you were the only one who could stay in that place. It was lost to the rest of us forever.

Therefore, I am tired of living for Panem's desire to keep us alive so that they don't have to dirty their hands by finishing the job themselves. Rather, they simply have to sit idly by while someone else does it for them. Do you understand now? I am tired of living for _Panem_ alone."

Suddenly, what she is saying makes sense to me, but I wish it didn't.

"So how do I break the Mockingjay's chains?" I ask.

"You can start by getting rid of these prison guards you have watching me and let me go home."

"I can't protect you there, Venus."

"Ares, I never asked for your protection."

"Then, think about it this way: I can't make sure you'll be safe there."

"Exactly"

"So, you want them to take you?"

"If it means that somebody feels that justice has finally been served, so be it."

"You understand they'll probably kill you, Venus?" I look at her for a reaction to this statement, but there is none. "You understand that, don't you? You understand what that will do to me? You're my sister!"

"Ares, no matter what happens to me, dead or alive, I'll always be your sister and I will always love you. Now, I just ask you show that same love back to me." I turn away because I don't want her to see the tears forming in my eyes but it is no use. Venus stands, crosses to me and plants a soft kiss on my cheek.

My thoughts drift back to what Lizzy told me last night. When I asked for her permission, her response was so simple, direct, and perfect I may never have thought of it:

"Why don't you ask Venus what she wants?" Well, now it seems I have my answer.

I reach into my pocket, pull out Ohm's cube, and place it into Venus' hands.

"Just promise me that you will always keep this with you. Hide it and make sure it goes wherever you go."

"What is this?" Venus asks sarcastically, "another one of the Capitol's spy devices?"

"No, this one is mine. It's so that if you are taken, I can find those responsible."

"What if I don't want you to find them? What if I want you to go back to your loving wife and have a long and happy life?"

"Because I'm the last of the 16, and I don't think they'll give me that option. If it comes down to it, I want to meet them on my own terms." Venus closes her hands around the cube and gives a subtle nod. It is now my turn to give her a soft kiss on the cheek.

"I love you, V. I'll make sure they'll be here in the morning to take you back to District 7." At that, I turn towards the door and leave knowing it will probably be the last time I ever see my sister alive.

The next few weeks pass in agony. I have trouble sleeping, my nights passing in alternating bouts of insomnia and vicious dreams of an adult Venus being ripped to pieces in an arena while a child version of herself laughs in contentment. Even Lizzy's sagely advice seems to do nothing to ease my pain. I rarely accompany her to the Spym anymore.

Everyone at the Ministry has even started to notice how much this seems to be weighing on me. At first, President Holmes couldn't understand why I would send Venus away without any protection, but soon she realized that it wasn't my decision. Even Sturm seems to soften to my plight. I'm not sure if he is feeling actual pity for me or if this situation reminds him of his own loss. Perhaps it doesn't matter either way.

Holmes excuses me from most of my additional duties. Thankfully, that also includes the monthly meeting with Ohm. Apparently, this annoyed him greatly, but I don't think I could face that man secretly knowing that it was him who put this plan in motion with his damn cube. I keep the receiver for it in my pocket at all times. Every few minutes, I obsessively check its screen to ensure that the signal never leaves Venus' cabin in the woods of District 7, and it never does.

When I am not staring into space, I am training: marksmanship, endurance, physical fitness, even infiltration. I still don't know what I will face when the time comes and have to be ready for anything.

One evening, I arrive home as usual. I go through my routine, grab a drink from the refrigerator, but instead of finding Lizzy's arms I have taken to staring out the large window in the dining room. As the sun sets, sending sparkling rays off the top of the Capitol's skyline, my mind is lost in thought. I can sense Lizzy's presence, occasionally glancing up to check on me as she prepares dinner in the kitchen, but she knows me well enough not to bother me while I am like this.

"_BEEP, BEEP, BEEP," _I receive a message on my communicuff. Not an unusual occurrence, so I don't bother checking it right away. Finally when I press the button on my wrist to display it, only a single sentence appears:

"_The first Snow has fallen."_ I rip the cube's receiver out of my pocket and am immediately gripped by panic. Without even thinking to say goodbye to Lizzy, I grab my jacket and run out of the door. I sprint down the hall to the elevator and select the roof. There is no time to go to the Ministry. I am already on my communicuff, ordering them to send a hovercraft that I have prepped with all the equipment that I think I will need. However, I now fear all of it will be unnecessary.

Five minutes later, the craft appears above my building, lowers its ladder, and then I am frozen in a column of energy as I am pulled aboard. I run straight for the cockpit.

"What coordinates, Sir?" The pilot asks. I give him the location of Venus' cabin in District 7. The flight will take two hours, and they are the longest two hours of my life. Even as Lizzy frantically tries to reach me on my communicuff, I ignore her calls. I can't tell her anything until I am sure, but repeated checks of the locator's receiver seems to confirm my worst instincts.

I order the pilot to make a combat approach, flying at full speed toward the cabin and dropping me off fifty feet from the front door. I hit the ground with a rifle in my hands and run toward the cabin. There is not a single light or sound coming from inside. Without stopping, I kick the door from its hinges, run inside and click on the tactical light mounted to my rifle. Frantically, I scan from room to room.

"Venus! Venus! Are you here?" I know that there will not be an answer. I reach her sculpting studio. The white beam from my rifle scans the room until it stops on the table. A wet mound of clay that still bears the marks of Venus' hands rests in the center. Directly in front of it, there is a single object. The locator is still here, but my sister has vanished.


	8. Chapter 8

The analyst's eyes betray her sadness as she breaks the news to me.

"Sir, Special Defense has completed the analysis of your communicuff…" I lean back in my chair and bury my face in my hands.

"Let me guess. Nothing."

"We ran a full pattern analysis twice and couldn't find any trace of source code, pathway identification, or any kind of base address. The message just contained one piece of data, _"The first Snow has fallen." _Everything else was just not there. I don't even understand how it's possible."

I sit in Central Briefing with President Holmes, General Sturm, and Rikard Ohm. The three of them stare at me as if they are watching this unfold as part of some television program.

"They haven't made a mistake yet," I say. "Why even hope that they would make one now?" the disdain dripping from my words.

"What about the legacy surveillance that was already in place at the cabin?" President Holmes asks the analyst.

"Madam President, both legacy high altitude surveillance and the audio acquisition network was functioning perfectly. We had clear observation of Miss Snow until 1755 hours the night of her disappearance when suddenly every single sensor and back-up sensor experienced a simultaneous system failure."

"Shouldn't that have triggered an automatic alarm here at the Operations Center?" General Sturm asks. This peaks my attention considering he is actually sounding concerned. I hope that it is for Venus and not for simply for the viability of his security net.

"Yes, Sir," the analyst hesitates for a second. "Well, normally it would, Sir, but the alert system was also briefly disabled. However, there was no sign of unauthorized access."

I slam my fist onto the table causing everyone to jump.

"Dammit, of course there was no sign of unauthorized entry! There was never any sign of unauthorized entry for the fourteen previous abductions. Why the hell would there be one for the fifteenth! We have to stop acting like we're dealing with a normal threat. Whoever is doing this is smarter than we are! They are two steps ahead of every move we make and we have to start thinking and not just reacting!"

"Please, Colonel Snow," President Holmes interjects. "I realize how upsetting this must be to you, but maintain your military bearing. I need your experience _thinking_ for us rather than your anger yelling at us." I manage to straighten up and at least appear to pull myself together.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. You're right."

"No apologies are necessary. Mr. Ohm, the reason I've asked you here is for your analysis on the technical threat to the UDP networks." I can't help but glare at him. The thought that Venus would still be safe if it wasn't for his plan has never exited my mind. His eyes catch mine but betray no emotion. His artificial voice begins to speak while his frozen lips still remain perpetually motionless.

"It is obvious that the perpetrators of these disappearances have a high level of knowledge of the Ministry Defense Network. It contains all the data they would need to organize these operations including access to disabling the appropriate security protocols."

"So, you're saying it's an inside job?" General Sturm spits out at him.

"Unlikely," Ohm continues. Every time a Ministry employee accesses the network, their personal identification code and physical location are logged in a separate encrypted database which has not been tampered with. The only way that I can see these particular operational security violations are possible is that someone is entering from outside of the network by manipulating the data stream itself. This is extraordinary in and of itself because the data stream uses a triband encryption matrix with a 10 millisecond refresh rate. "

"English please," I say to Ohm becoming increasingly upset at his nonchalant attitude considering that this realization has the potential to bring down the entire country. "Some of us in here are just dumb grunts."

"In _layman's_ terms, Colonel Snow, the database access codes have over two billion possible combinations and the correct code changes one hundred times every second."

"Could it be the TEC?" says President Holmes.

"Unlikely," Ohm continues in his passive tones. "The TEC uses a binary carrier wave on their data transmissions that is very distinctive, especially over long distances. Our external defense nodes would have picked up their transmissions almost instantly.

My thinking is that it could be a sleeper: an old veteran of the Revolution that has a particular grudge against the descendants of their previous overlords."

"That's half the damn country, Man." Sturm mumbles.

"Actually, not when you examine the facts, General," Ohm continues. "The Defense Network is a remnant of the one designed for the Peacekeeper forces near the end of the Snow regime. We simply just re-encrypted it."

"So, what you're saying is 'It's the same door, you just changed the locks,'" I grumble.

"One could use that analogy, yes."

"So, I guess the question we should be asking right now is 'Who are the people who re-encrypted the network?'"

"I think that you are finally starting to use the little bit of logic you seem to have, Colonel," Ohm says as a crooked grin creeps across his face. I continue to glare.

"I imagine it's not a very long list, then?"

"A little less than a hundred names would have had access to the kind of information required."

"Then what the hell are we waiting for?" I yell as I stand up from the table.

"Not so fast, Colonel Snow," President Holmes barks at me. "After consulting with General Sturm, we have both decided that the strain of this chain of events has proven to be too much for you."

"What?"

"You're too damn close to this, Snow. With your emotions this high, you're a liability rather than an asset to this investigation," Sturm says bluntly.

"How much leave do you have built up?" Holmes asks.

"You're turfing me?"

"We're simply asking you to have confidence in us to see this through."

"I supposed to be confident now. I've been screaming about this for the past twelve months and nothing has been done!"

"Watch…your…tone, Colonel. I am still your president whether you like it or not. Leave the Capitol for awhile, spend some time reconnecting with your wife, and we'll see to your protection."

"My protection?" I don't like where this is going.

"You are to have a twenty-four hour a day security escort until further notice under my direct executive order. I can't afford to lose Ares Snow. You're too valuable to us."

I curse so loudly that every set of eyes in the room looks directly at me.

"Venus was my responsibility and now she's gone! You can't expect me just to sit idly by while I put my fate and hers in the hands of a bunch of worthless techno-geeks," I say more than indicating Ohm with a nod of my head. He remains unfazed.

"Look what happened to Venus, Snow. Look what happened when you didn't 'think' like you were supposed to. Trust me, I know how you feel." Sturm says trying to be as inoffensive as possible but his words slice like a razor. I nearly collapse to the floor as my legs feel they are now made of rubber.

"This is not a debate, Ares," the President continues. "My decision is final. Go home _now_. Your escort is already waiting for you upstairs."

Five bodyguards meet me at the elevator. They walk with me as I go to my office, clear out a few personal items, and then take me to a waiting private car. I begin to feel as Venus must have: like a prisoner.

When we arrive at my apartment building, I convince them to leave me at the front door, but I have two guards stationed directly outside at all times, and three more walking around the outside in plain clothes. An unmanned hovercraft circles ten thousand feet above in the sky streaming a constant video feed directly to Central Briefing and the crisis room at the Presidential Mansion. In less than 48 hours, I've lost my sister, my freedom, and now my dignity. Venus was right: maybe I am now living for Panem's sake alone.

I swipe into my apartment, and find Lizzy waiting for me in the living room.

"President Holmes called me directly this afternoon and told me about the new arrangement…"

I drop everything I am carrying directly to the floor and stumble to the corner across from her. There is silence for a few seconds.

Without warning, I punch at the drywall as hard as I can. My fist goes through it like tissue paper. Tears are streaming down my face and I hear angry, painful screaming ringing in my ears. Eventually, I realize it is coming from me.

"Ares!" Lizzy yells running over before grabbing my shoulder. I collapse to the ground in the fetal position. Lizzy's warm embrace soon wraps around my quivering body and she rocks me back and forth like a child in its mother's arms. "It's ok. It's ok, just let it out."

"She's dead, Lizzy. I can feel it in my heart. She's dead! And it's all because of me…"

"No, Ares. No, it was her choice. You can't blame yourself for that."

"Then who? Who do I blame?"

"Blame the people who did this, Ares." She gently wipes the tears from my face and softly kisses my lips. It's like an immediate tranquilizer. "Let the anger go. It will destroy you…and our security deposit."

Both of us burst out laughing, but soon I turn sullen again.

"My entire adult life, I've been the warrior: the one with the answers. The one that everyone counted on to face the enemy head on and take care of them…"

"And you will be again."

"Are you sure about that?"

"As sure as I am that I love you, but right now you have to have faith that the right people are in place to figure this out."

"And while I just sit here gathering dust like a relic, what am I supposed to do?"

"You're on administrative leave aren't you? Let's get the hell out of here, just the two of us."

"Where would we go?"

"Back home. Finnick's offer is still open."

"Really? Me dealing with Finnick right now?"

"Ok, if you don't want to deal with him, I can still get us a wonderful little cottage by the sea. Think of it, Ares. A little fire burning on the stone hearth, the smell of steaming lobster caught fresh that morning coming from the kitchen. You and me bundled up on the porch watching the sun go down as the rays dance off the surf, the sound of the waves crashing onto the sand…"

Suddenly, I realize that is exactly what I need.

"That cottage does sound pretty nice, I have to admit."

"Just give me a few days to make the arrangements. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

"A few days, what am I supposed to do until then?"

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"Something, I've really been neglecting." Slowly, I take her hand and stand us up. Our lips meet again and I press Lizzy gently into the wall. Her arms softly massage my back as the rest of the world just seems to melt away into her embrace.

My hands find the base of her sweater and I pull it over her head, our lips only parting for the briefest of moments. Her skin flushes and its warmth becomes even more intoxicating. I can't stop and she doesn't want me to. I lift her into my arms and carry her to the bedroom. As we drop together onto the covers, my fingertips slowly run up and down her chest and she trembles with anticipation. True happiness rushes back into my heart. I can think of nothing else but the bond that connects us. How that bond has been tested, tried, but never has failed. This is the only woman in the world that my entire existence depends on.

"As long as I have you, nothing else really matters," I gently whisper into her ear. She whispers back, "And you will have me until my dying breath."


	9. Chapter 9

The next few days pass in relative peace. Lizzy requested and was granted a leave of absence from the University. When we are not reconnecting with each other, she is busy talking with relatives or making travel arrangements. Apparently, the cottage by the sea belonged to her grandparents and has been in the Odair family for decades before the first Hunger Games. After her grandparents passed away, the cottage has been rotated through the various children and grandchildren as a secret getaway spot. Annie apparently spent much of her convalescence there over the years.

The night before our departure, Lizzy and I sit on our couch in front of a smoldering fire. There is an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of us.

"So, tell me about the first time you ever went to this cottage by the sea," I ask trying to keep our mind on happy times. Unfortunately, it doesn't work.

"I remember when I was ten years old and first met Aunt Annie. My parents let me spend the summer there with her and Finnick. Sometimes, she was just lost somewhere. I could tell that her mind was active, but it was like it was out of her body. Finnick never missed a beat, so I guess he must have been used to it. Without even disturbing her, he would go out in his little boat in the morning and bring us catch of fresh fish by the afternoon. I would stay with Annie and just talk to her. Most of the time, it was like I wasn't even there, but sometimes she would just become so clear and lucid. Those times were when we made our connection.

She would talk for hours about her childhood, meeting Finnick Sr., their wedding in District 13 during the war, even what is was like to carry Finnick Jr. inside of her knowing he would never meet his father.

Finally, with only a week before I had to go home, I got her to talk about what it was like for her in the arena: what is was like to hear your name called at the Reaping, saying goodbye to everyone you know thinking it will probably be the last time you ever see them, being wisked off to the Capitol that until then existed only on a television screen, being wheeled out on a chariot in some crazy costume that made you more like an object to the screaming crowds than a person so that it would be easier for them to watch you die. I was only a few years younger than she was then. I just kept asking myself as she was talking, could I do what she did?

Annie said the interviews were the worst thing for her: to be forced to talk about your deepest fears in front of millions. She said that Caesar Flickerman even asked her, 'What would be your most embarrassing way to go in the arena?' Can you imagine being asked that knowing that they could make it a reality?"

"I remember seeing that when we were forced to watch that year's interviews. She said that she couldn't bear the thought of being forced to 'beg for her life.' No, I can't imagine anything like that. It would be like having your dignity slaughtered as well as your life."

"Apparently, the Gamemakers tried to engineer a romance between her and one of the Careers because she was so timid they were afraid that she wouldn't be 'compelling enough' when she finally was killed."

"His name was Kurt Goldner, a beast from from District 1. It was ridiculous because he was almost twice her size."

"How do you remember all that?"

"It wasn't an option for me not to."

Lizzy just sighs.

"That was the year when I decided to become a psychologist. I knew I had to find out what was going on in her tormented mind and how to bring her back…I also wanted to answer another, maybe even tougher question. How could our parents have tolerated doing this to their children?"

"I bet it was because by pretending to support it somehow it made it seem like they were more like the Capitol spectators and less like someone who was being forced to participate."

"Maybe."

"What was it like for her during the competition?"

"Do you know when you're having a nightmare and your worst fears are always in your thoughts like they're about to come true? She said it was like that, but at the same time knowing that you couldn't wake up safe in your bed. Annie just kept running and hiding until eventually she was the only one left. Then, the hovercraft appeared out of nowhere, and it was over."

"But it wasn't…It was never over." I hesitate, not sure if I should ask a question that has been burning in my mind ever since we met, but determine now is as good a time as any. "Did she ever say anything Pompey Eckhart, the Agricultural Councilor?"

"Not until I was much older," Lizzy said shocked. "She swore me to secrecy, said I couldn't even tell you. How do you know about that?"

"His son, Commodus, was a friend of mine growing up. On one of the few nights they left us to ourselves, we were talking about our parents. He said his father was a pedophile. I don't even know how you ever come to terms with something like that. Apparently, he would pay Snow tens of thousands if it met that he could be a female victor's first. Commodus said that even when he was four years old, he can remember his father leaving on what he said was "official business," but his mother always knew what he was doing. She would just stay up all night and cry until he came back the next morning.

I was never sure if Annie was one of them, but now I know, and it is probably another crime that Commodus had to pay for with his blood." Lizzy starts crying and I pull her close.

"When did he disappear?" Lizzy finally manages to ask.

"Last November while he was working in a mill in District 8. He said he liked it up there because it was as far away from District 11 as he could get and no one would recognize him."

"Ares, how will our country move on from something like this?"

"One day everyone who ever witnessed a Hunger Games will be gone. We have to teach our children so that their children and their children's children don't ever walk down the same path as our parent's did."

"But what about us? How do we move on?"

"One day at a time, I suppose."

The next morning, the sun rose on our day of escape. The train was not scheduled to leave until 1300, so Lizzy and I decided on one last trip to the Spym so we could feel refreshed for the journey. The two bodyguards follow us into the elevator and down to the basement. Lizzy hides her discomfort so well, but I realize that she needs some space.

"You want to schedule a massage for later?" I ask trying to stay upbeat.

"Sure, I'll go talk to the attendant at the desk." After she leaves, I turn to the bodyguards.

"Look, fellas, there is only one entrance in and out of here. Can you just humor me this once and just stay outside."

"Roger, Sir," the senior one says understandingly. "If you need anything, just beep us on your communicuff."

"Relax, ok? I'll only be a hundred feet away."

I go inside and see Lizzy still talking to the attendant about the massage.

"The rest of the staff doesn't get here until 9 o'clock. It's just me until then."

"Is that alright with you, honey?" Lizzy asks.

"Sure, fine with me. We'll have plenty of time to make it to the station." We kiss one last time before she heads to the jet pool. The workout room is blissfully empty again. I stare back to my old nemesis, the heavy bag, in the corner but decide that today I will focus on something besides my anger. I turn the television mounted on the wall to the morning news, complete a circuit of weights, and then finish up with a brisk half an hour run on the treadmill. My mind drifts to the other fourteen and to Venus, hoping against all hope that we'll soon be reunited with each other and I manage to maintain some sense of optimism that Sturm and Holmes will deliver on their promise of solving the mystery for me. Now, my only mission is to stay out of trouble and be there for Lizzy.

After drenching myself in sweat, I grab my towel and head to meet my wife. I'm actually looking forward to a swim today. The jet pool is deserted except for Lizzy's towel hanging from the wall. Once again she has disappeared under the bubbles. I take off my shoes and socks and dangle my feet in the water as usual.

"Lizzy!" I yell. No response as always. Half a minute goes by. "C'mon, girl you gotta breathe sometime, you're not all fish yet." Another half a minute. "You're really pushing me today, Liz." _Another half minute_. I realize she has never held her breath this long before. Without thinking, I jump into the pool to look below the bubbles. I frantically search under water, but there is no one.

I explode from the pool and run toward the front desk without toweling off, leaving a trail of water behind me.

"Maybe she just went to the locker room," I keep repeating to myself over and over trying to rationalize my fears away. The attendant sits at her chair with her back to me. "Excuse me, ma'am." The attendant ignores me. "Excuse me," I repeat louder." Still she still ignores me. I'm growing angry now. "I said, Excuse…" I reach out and grab her shoulder. The attendant falls to the ground, motionless. I lunge forward and roll her over. A tiny dart is sticks out of the front of her neck. She has been poisoned. "Lizzy! I scream running back towards the woman's locker room. I burst inside, but it is deserted. I frantically check the rest of the Spym's rooms as the panic reaches its zenith, but the place is completely empty. My wife is gone.

"Alert!" I scream into my communicuff. "We have a full alert! Elizabeth Snow has been abducted! I need a full response team scrambled immediately and I want a car waiting to take me to Central Briefing upstairs in 60 seconds!" I receive confirmation from the security detail walking the perimeter of the building, but nothing from the two directly outside the Spym.

I throw open the front doors where I find the two of them both lying in pools of blood, each killed by a single bullet to the head: the mark of a professional. I scan the surroundings for any clue to whom might have done this when something lying on the floor catches my eye. It is a silver photo album, placed carefully a few feet away from the bodies. Somebody put it here to be found. I am afraid of what might be in it, but I must know. My hands shake as I reach down and pick it up. I just stare at the cover trying to gather the courage to open it. Finally, with all the strength I can muster, I throw open the cover.

They are all there Lydia, Tiberius, Commodus, Calpurnia, Juno, and the rest in the order that they disappeared. Each is vividly captured in the precise pose of their death. Lydia is crushed under a boulder; Tiberius has a hole a foot across blown through his chest. Commodus lies at the bottom of a cliff, bashed against the rocks. Juno has two bullet holes through her skull, so on and so forth. Finally, all that is left is to turn to page fifteen. Turning that page is like lifting a thousand pound weight, but it finally moves. Then, I see her: my beautiful sister. She is leaning against the base of a tree. If it weren't for the knife blade sticking from her chest, you would think she was taking a peaceful nap in the late afternoon sun. I swear I can even see the hint of smile on her pale face. Tears fall from my eyes and slam against the page. I can't breathe and my heart feels like it will beat out of my chest.

On the page next to Venus' picture, is a set of numerical grid coordinates with a single typed paragraph:

_Come alone. We will know if you are being tracked or followed. You have forty-eight hours or your wife dies for you._


	10. Chapter 10

I crash through the door of Central Briefing, zipping my black combat fatigues up my chest.

"Ops Officer, I want a long range hovercraft prepped in the central hanger and ready to fly in exactly 30 minutes. Give me a full tactical load of weapons and ammo aboard. Enough food, water, and fuel for a four day extended operation. I also need a level 3 trauma kit as well; I don't know what kind of injuries I'll be facing when I hit the ground."

"Any preference on the pilot, Sir?" He asks.

"Roger that: _me_. I'm flying alone."

"Understood," he says running out toward the hanger bays.

I turn my attention toward my partner: the analyst who always accompanies me in my briefings, the one person in this room who always seemed to care. Somehow, when I felt I needed someone I could trust, her face popped into my head. I sent her a holofile of the silver album on the car ride over here.

"Alright, Amelia, tell me what you could find out." She freezes for a second as if she's amazed that I know her first name. "C'mon, Amelia, talk to me. We're burning time."

"Of course, Sir, she says coming to her senses. She enters a few keystrokes on the control panel, spinning the holographic globe to the Pacific Ocean. A flashing red dot indicates a location in open water over two thousand miles west of the coast of District 1. Amelia begins her brief, "The coordinates in the note to you are indicated above."

"What's the nearest land mass?"

"The Hawaiian Atoll."

"Well, they're not there," I say. Amelia nods in agreement. The island chain known as "Hawaii" was once considered a prime tourist getaway for the Capitol Elite before the Dark Days. Unfortunately, during the construction of the arena for the second Hunger Games, a botched attempt by a Gamemaker Construction team to make the ancient volcano, Kilauea, erupt on command created a chain reaction that buried the entire island chain under three feet of molten lava. The air turned to a toxic mixture of sulfur and carbon dioxide that would kill a person in minutes. The Capitol wanted to prevent word of the embarrassing gaff to spread back to mainland Panem, so they installed a naval and air blockade while the fires raged. The entire remaining population of the islands, over 300,000 people, perished.

"What's the nearest _habitable_ land mass?" I continue.

"Midway Atoll," but there are thousands of tiny uninhabited islands spread over an area of ocean that could swallow Panem whole ten times over. They could be anywhere."

"Great."

"I completed a further analysis of the photos in the album. The flora does indicate that the location is somewhere in the Central Pacific Basin: climate consistent with tropical rainforest growing on top of volcanic basalt."

"What else. Give me something I can use."

"I did find something interesting in the photographs of the victims themselves." She punches the control again bringing up the fifteen photographs together. "Look at their left wrists." Amelia's right. I can't believe I missed it. Attached to every single one of the fifteen's arms is a black metal "tracelet," standard issue for prisoners detained in the UDP so that their movements can be tracked in the event of escape. "What I don't understand is how every single one of them could have escaped from captivity…" Amelia thinks out loud.

"They didn't escape," I interrupt as it all becomes clear to me. "The island is a damn game preserve."

"What?"

"This whole thing: It's a canned hunt."

"Sir, what's a canned hunt?" Amelia asks inquisitively.

"Back when the Capitol elite were in control, it was a fashionable way to relax by going on safari and bag rare and exotic animals, not for food but just for sport. However, most were too lazy to actually track an animal the old fashioned way over large distances so they started what was called "canned hunting." The animals would be raised in captivity and then released into a large, fenced-in area with a tracking device. That meant that all the hunter had to do was follow an arrow on a receiver until the animal was cornered and just finish the job however they saw fit. Those photos aren't some kind of warning to me, they're _trophies_."

"Oh my God," Amelia says covering her mouth with her hands.

"This isn't just revenge. Don't you see, the sixteen are the most rare and dangerous game of them all: the last remaining descendants of the _Maneaters of Panem_. But we were all raised in captivity so we're safe." I jump up from the table. "I've got to get to that hovercraft."

"The hell you do!" a voice booms from behind me. President Holmes and General Sturm have joined us. "The last time I checked, the only person who can authorize an overseas military operation according to the UDP Constitution is the President and that happens to be me."

"How much did you hear?" I ask her.

"Enough to listen to your outlandish theory and think that the pressure has finally caused one of my top officers to completely lose his mind!"

"Do you have a better theory, Madam President?" I reply not backing down.

"Regardless, I seem to remember ordering you to stand down from this case and let us take care of it."

"I think that the circumstances have changed on that front!" I yell back at her.

"Sit down, Colonel!" she commands as she and the general move to the table.

"Captain Flagg," President Holmes asks Amelia. "Does your analysis lend any credence to Colonel Snow's theory?"

"With all due respect, Ma'am," Amelia replies, "I've analyzed all the facts and Colonel Snow's theory is the only one that makes any sense to me right now."

"What about Special Defense? Have you shared any of this information with Mr. Ohm?"

"No, Ma'am. He is currently in District 2 overseeing a refit of his munitions factory."

"Forget that creepy troll!" I burst out. "He's nothing but a crackpot who's only made things worse from the start!"

"That's enough from you, Snow! Mr. Ohm has always provided me with the most consistent, impartial guidance of anyone in the country and is a national treasure that _you_ have always seemed to undervalue. I could have you sedated and thrown in a holding cell right now for violating my orders. The only reason I haven't had you carried out of Central Briefing yet is the respect I have for your years of service. Captain Flagg, send your reports to Mr. Ohm immediately for his review. In the mean time, General Sturm, assemble a strike team of our best operators. We'll go to those coordinates and take care of this threat once and for all."

"That message said explicitly that I was to go alone and they can tell if I'm being tracked! If you do that, you're sentencing Lizzy to death! Our best operatives weren't able to protect her here. What makes you think they'll be able to when they're playing on the enemy's terms?"

"That's enough from you, Snow. Security, get him out of here and into a holding cell…"

"Madam President, wait…" Sturm says in the calmest voice I have ever heard him use. "Let him go."

"What?" President Holmes and I exclaim simultaneously in astonished voices.

"You told us that the reason that Colonel Snow required the security detail in the first place was that he was so valuable to this country. What value does he have to us if he's trapped in a prison cell? If anything, it just makes him an easier target for an enemy that has proven to be better than us at every single turn. He's right. Any transmission from this building or attempt to send a tactical strike team would no doubt be discovered and Mrs. Snow would probably be dead before they even took flight.

I didn't speak up when his sister disappeared because I was worried that my personal feelings were clouding my judgment just like his were, but now it's clear that personal feelings are what it's going to take to bring these bastards down. Every moment we waste pretending that's not the case is another one closer to defeat."

At that moment, General Sturm was reborn in my eyes. He was no longer a bitter relic, but a wise leader. Holmes is speechless. After a few moments considering this massive turn of events, she finally speaks.

"Just tell me one thing, Ares Snow. If I send you across the planet, by yourself, into a completely unknown environment fraught with the worst possible dangers that have already taken fifteen other lives and are about to take a sixteenth, can you possibly succeed?

"Madame President, It's what I was born for."

"Very well," she says standing up from the table. "Be at the Central Hangar in one hour. Everything you requested will be waiting for you then." All I can do to acknowledge her act is give a simple, but firm nod of appreciation. She walks toward the doors and General Sturm follows. As he passes me, his hand finds my shoulder and gives a supportive squeeze. Suddenly, I blurt out:

"Why are doing this? I thought you hated me, Sir." He leans over and whispers so that only I can hear.

"It's not for you. It's so that Lucia can finally rest in peace." He follows the president out. Then, it's just me and analyst Amelia.

"I just realized something," I say to her. "In all the time we've been working together, I don't think I've ever really thanked you. I think you might be the most decent person in this crazy place." Captain Amelia Flagg smiles back and walks over to me.

"Just be sure you come back to us, Sir." She leans over and gives me a quick peck on my cheek.

From Central Briefing, I walk straight to the armory. Very shortly, blood will flow: either mine or theirs. Meticulously, I strap on my equipment: armor, pistols, grenades, knives, extra magazines. Finally, when the time comes, I walk into the hangar carrying my helmet in one hand and my rifle in the other. I was expecting some kind of huge crowd to be waiting at the hovercraft. Instead, there is only one.

"Come to say goodbye, Madam President?" I ask flippantly.

"You always were a pain, Ares, but you were always sincere and I respect that."

"Well, Driva (I can tell the use of her first name perturbs her a bit), I always loved that same quality in you."

"Do you really think you'll be able to use all that stuff?" she asks pointing to my equipment.  
>"Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it."<p>

"You're not worried about the kind of impression that will give to them?"

"The impression I give them will be the least of my worries. I have no intention of negotiating. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm expected elsewhere." I push past her and up the ramp of the hovercraft.

"Colonel Snow," she yells. I turn around as she throws an object into my arms. As soon as I catch it, I know exactly what it is: one of Ohm's cubes.

"Did he give you this to plant on me?"

"Yes, after Venus disappeared he said that I should emplace it as insurance against your loss."

"Then why didn't you? That would be the logical course of action."

"Because it seemed like something that you wouldn't want me to do."

"That's never stopped you before."

"Maybe there's hope for us both, Snow," is her only reply. I laugh as I throw the cube back down to her.

"Well, you were correct. If you haven't heard from me in three days, well….thank you for everything you have done for me, Ma'am." I turn again for the hovercraft.

"Snow!" Holmes shouts. I turn back. _"May the odds be ever…"_ I sharply raise my hand.

"That's quite unnecessary, Ma'am."

"Well, how about this then? Good Luck, Ares."

"And to you." I turn back for the last time and head for the cockpit. As President Holmes watches, I raise the ramp, power up the engines, and fly out towards the setting western sun.


	11. Chapter 11

Night finally envelops the hovercraft as I fly ten thousand feet over the coast of District 1. There is nothing out ahead of me except for black ocean and the unknown of what I am about to face. I input the coordinates from the message into the autopilot computer and lean back in my chair. My mind wanders back to my childhood, growing up with the others in what our mentors euphemistically called the "Rehabilitation and Reeducation" or "R &R" center. Most children look forward to growing up for the little things: getting a driver's license, being able to have their first cigarette, finally move out of their parent's home. I suppose we were not that different, but what we looked forward to the most was simply becoming free. As the oldest among us finally hit seventeen, and invariably chose to leave, the rest of us would celebrate with them, but then soon feel the emptiness of losing one more of our small family. Lydia, who was already sixteen when the Rebels took over, was the first to leave. Antonius was the next to go a year later. I was still a baby really so I never knew them that well. It was the fourth to depart that was the worst for me…

Suddenly, I am seven years old again and curled up on my bunk in the "R &R" barracks. It is well after lights out, and the darkness surrounds me. Tears stream down my face and moisten the scratchy green wool blanket I am lying on. I have been crying because today is her birthday. I know what she will choose because it is what all of them have chosen. How could she leave me? She said she loved me, didn't she? Doesn't she know that once she goes away, she won't be able to talk to me or come visit me anymore? Doesn't she know that she will leave me all alone in this scary place with the scary people…and the scary pictures they make us watch? It is a child's logic, but it is as real to me as any. It is _still_ real to me.

She tiptoes out of the darkness and kneels next to me. I don't want to talk. I'm too angry to talk. I roll over to my other side and stare at the concrete block wall.

"Go away, Venus," I pout. "You know you're not supposed to be in here. You're just gonna get me in trouble." She gently rubs my back trying to calm me down.

"It's ok. They said I could come and say goodbye, little brother."

"Well, you've said it. Now go away!"

"Ares, what's wrong?" I still stare into the wall.

"You know."

"No, I don't. I thought that you would be happy."

"Happy that you're going away? That you're gonna leave me by myself forever?"

"Not forever, little brother. We'll see each other again really soon." Even at that age, I could tell she was lying. I roll back over and look her in the eyes.

"Where will you go?"

"I wanna go to someplace I've never seen before," she says trying to sound optimistic. "I wanna go to the forest where I can wake up in the morning and hear the birds singing in the trees and smell the pine on the breeze. I wanna be where things are alive, and aren't just made from metal and cement. But most of all, I wanna go where I can make things instead of just watch other people destroy each other." The happy picture she paints for me with her soothing voice calms me down a little.

"Can I come visit you there?" I sniffle through my last remaining tears.

"One day, little brother. One day." I reach up and wrap my little arms around her neck.

"I love you, Sissy. Don't ever forget about me." She laughs as she hugs me back.

"I'll always love you, Ares, and I could never forget about you."

That was the only time, for the briefest of moments, I ever considered leaving the Capitol behind when I was old enough, but as Venus disappeared back into the darkness that night, I knew in my heart that she was embarking on a journey that I could never follow on. She just wanted to live for herself, but I couldn't do that. I wanted to live for the others that I saw die every day.

"_BEEP, BEEP, BEEP_," the autopilot warning rips into my consciousness. I've fallen asleep, but the craft has continued west over the ocean and is now almost to the coordinates. I reposition myself in my seat, trying to bring feeling back into my numb extremities.

I've just finished rubbing my eyes when suddenly the cockpit comes alive around me. Red lights flash, alarms echo from the walls. A computerized female voice announces:

_"Warning: Missile Lock. Warning: Missile Lock."_ Instinctively, I grab the controls and violently lurch the hovercraft to left. Just in time, it seems, because a white trail of smoke streaks across the viewscreen right where my flight path had been. The missile tries to correct itself, but the acceleration is too much and it explodes a few hundred feet away, causing the entire craft to shake as if it is about to fly apart. I click on the rear view screen and see two attack hovercraft bearing down on me in the darkness.

"Ghost Ships_, Great,"_ I think to myself as I realize this enemy is a lot more advanced than even I was willing to believe. A Ghost Ship is a stealth hovercraft, designed specifically to sneak up on an enemy and destroy them before they know it. That's why there was no proximity alarm before they armed their weapons and fired.

I begin to maneuver my hovercraft wildly, trying to break the death grip they have on my flight path.

_"Warning: Missile Lock. Warning: Missile Lock," _the computer chimes in again. I click the mute button immediately. That's just too disconcerting to hear right now. Another white smoke trail appears from the second Ghost Ship. I slam the controls violently again, this time bringing my hovercraft into full inverted flight. The missile passes so close this time that I swear if there was no glass in the viewscreen, I would be able to reach out and touch it. Another explosion: this time I'm not so lucky. The shockwave causes several control panels to blow out it my face. I feel the controls grow sluggish in my hands as my stabilizer fails and I bring the hovercraft back around into level flight to avoid a stall. I am now a sitting duck.

I look at the rear view screen again and see the Ghost Ships have closed the distance. They are now right on top of me.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I defiantly say out loud. They must have heard me. I see the first Ghost Ship fire another missile. The white streak screams directly at me and finds its mark.

The blast of the explosion is so fierce, I nearly black out. The rest of my controls fail and I smell the harsh scent of burning wiring and scorched rubber. My entire hovercraft spins out of control. Out of the darkness, I see the ocean below growing closer and closer. The ejection system has failed; looks like I'm on board for the duration.

The phrase, _"Not how I expected to go out,"_ crosses my mind as I brace for the imminent impact. The ocean continues to rush at me until finally I meet its surface. My body slams into my harness straps and I feel the viewscreen shatter in my face. I raise my arms to shield my body from the thousands of bits of Plexiglas as they fly around me. A surge of freezing water envelops everything as my flying machine becomes a submarine, pulling me down towards the depths of the Pacific…

What happens next is more like a dream than reality. I have the sensation of floating, I cannot breathe, and I think I'm drowning. A large shape appears in blackness above me, then a bright white light. I am weightless as the light draws me toward it. Human forms tower above me silhouetted against the brilliance. Their masked faces are speaking but I cannot understand their words. Then, there is a sharp prick of pain in my arm and the blackness returns.

I awake on the floor of a black steel cell, a bitter metallic taste lingering in my mouth. I take stock of my surroundings. There is no furniture, not even a bunk; only a faucet, basin, and metal toilet. A dim, yellow light barely illuminates the space. All my equipment has been stripped from me, and I only wear my black t-shirt, fatigue bottoms, and boots. My legs feel like rubber but I manage to raise myself to my feet. My head throbs and my entire body is sore.

"What happened?" I think to myself until I realize, "Oh right, I was in a hovercraft crash and nearly drowned. _Silly me."_ I stumble over to the faucet to splash some cold water on my face, but as I look down to fill my hands with water, I see my wrist. My communicuff is gone; replaced instead by a black tracelet. I reach down too see how secure it is and manage to slide it about two inches in either direction, but it is firmly locked in place. "Seems like I've come to the right place," I mutter. I'm conscious of the fact that every word I say is probably being recorded, but I don't really care. I run the water into my hands, rinse my face, and then try to wash the taste from my mouth. It is only marginally effective. I then realize that I have no idea how long I've been out. It was night when I was blown from the sky, but there is nothing in here to indicate what time of day it is.

I'm guessing about another hour passes. I sit in the corner of the cell, attempting to give my shattered body a chance to heal, when suddenly a trap door in the base of the solid steel cell door opens and a tray of food is shoved inside. The trap door closes again before I get any hint of what…or who…is outside. I climb to my feet once more and stumble over to the tray. There are no utensils, just what appears to be a plate of beans and a slab of dry cornbread.

"But waiter, I ordered the prime rib and mashed potatoes!" I yell towards the ceiling in a nasal voice that I think best mirrors the old Capitolites, but I am answered only by the sound of my ridiculous words echoing off the empty walls. "Can't take a joke it seems…" Still no response. At that moment, I realize I am starving and haven't eaten in what must be over 24 hours. I reach down and pick up the tray. It's not exactly appetizing, and has a real possibility of being poisoned, but I know that without my strength, I'll be no good at facing the challenges that will probably soon await me. Stumbling, back to the corner, I collapse down to the ground and shovel the beans into my mouth using the cornbread. "Not bad, could use a little salt, but my compliments to the chef."

Another hour or so passes in silence. My mind begins to wander again. I think of the other fifteen, the pictures of their gruesome deaths rolling over and over again through my thoughts. I think of Lizzy and home: our last nights together spent wrapped in each other's embrace. I pray that whatever has happened to her that I am not too late. Slowly, I raise my hand to the wall and lay it flat against the cold steel, somehow praying that she is unharmed, directly on the other side. More time passes, more silence, more thoughts I'd prefer not to consider. Finally, I begin to grow angry. I came here for a challenge, not to be locked in a cage like an animal waiting for slaughter. I rise to my feet and stare defiantly into the dim yellow light.

"Well, your prey has arrived! What are you waiting for?" I yell at the top of my lungs. Apparently, this time they were listening.

The cell door unlocks with a rusty thud. The hinges creek as it is thrown open. In walk two guards, dressed in body armor from head to toe. They carry clubs, but have pistols strapped to their hips. Their faces are obscured by a dark visor attached to their helmets. One leans back against the wall with his hand on his gun while the other raises his club and moves toward me.

"You guys here to dance?" I ask sarcastically. I fully expect to receive a billy club strike across my chest, but at the last moment, the guard silently points his club towards the door and motions for me to step outside. "Alright, I guess we're going." Still no words from either of them.

The hallway is long and sterile. Blue lights run across the ceiling, giving the whole place an eerie, unnatural glow. As the guards lead me toward my destination, I try to take note of the layout of this place, but there are absolutely no reference points to remember. How they navigate is beyond me. Finally, we reach another set of doors. One of the guards pulls out a plastic card from his waistband and swipes it in front of a black plate. The lock clicks and the doors open. He motions with his club again for me to step inside.

"Sorry, I forgot my wallet or else I'd be sure to tip, but the service really was excellent…" I am silenced as he strikes his club against the wall with a loud bang. "Temper, temper…"

As the doors slowly close behind me, I finally hear his voice:

"It's alright, make jokes while you can."

"That was ominous," I think to myself before finally noticing what's around me. I am standing in what appears to be a huge pit. There is another set of steel doors directly in front of me. There is a metal, diamond plate stairwell to my left which leads to a second floor. Banks of computer screens and flashing lights encircle the entire room. A few black uniformed operators run from panel to panel making adjustments. Directly above the steel doors is a balcony with what appears to be a giant plastic tube. Inside, a woman in a white, flowing dress fights to stand: swaying back and forth as if she is extremely weak and on the verge of collapsing. Her head hangs, resting on her chest. The first thing I recognize is her hair, her beautiful red hair.

"Lizzy!" I scream as loud as I can. Her head pops up and her eyes grow wide as she recognizes me below.

"Ares!" She screams back down, banging on the plastic casing of the tube. I am about to sprint to the stairwell when I hear her yell, "Don't move! They'll kill you!" The sound of twenty assault rifles cocking behind me causes me to freeze. I slowly turn to see a line of armed guards towering over me on another balcony, their weapons all trained precisely on my skull. I hold my hands out to show that I have no intention of fighting…yet.

"Ok, so we're not moving." I carefully turn back towards Lizzy and see a figure slowly materialize out of the darkness behind her. Finally, after all these months, my question has been answered. "Of course, it's you…" I say as my heart drops to the pit of my stomach as I realize that one of the greatest heroes of the Revolution has become a terrorist. "…It could only have been you."


	12. Chapter 12

"So the cube you gave me to track Venus?"

"A rather ingenious way of ensuring that you were looking in the wrong direction as I prepared the coup de grace."

"And I suppose if President Holmes had planted the other cube on me before I left…"

"It would have suffered a rather unfortunate malfunction, rendering the Ministry unable to find you in time."

"Just tell me why? Tell me why you would take the trust of the country that gave you back your life; gave you fame, honor, and fortune and then spit in its face?"

"Please, don't insult my intelligence with your pseudo-patriotic dribble, Colonel Snow," he says to me with his motionless lips. "Isn't it obvious? _Revenge._ It really is the most simple of motives. After all, not everything requires an elaborate chain of explanation."

"If you wanted the lives of the other fifteen, understandable. If you want my life now, fine. But why her?" I yell pointing at Lizzy still trapped in the tube.

"When she took the last name, Snow, she made her choice."

"Let us go you sadistic fu.." Lizzy screams from her plastic prison until Ohm suddenly moves his hand over a control panel next to the tube. She immediately falls quiet.

"That is really quite enough from you, Mrs. Snow," Ohm says matter of factly, still holding his finger over a large red button. The way Lizzy suddenly stopped her words fills me with anguish. Whatever that button does, it is enough to instantly silence her with fear; meaning she has already suffered torture at the hands of this maniac. The rage boils over from inside of me.

"I'm going to _kill_ you," I spit at him with a deep seated, fiery hatred. I have never felt a darkness like this inside before.

"That is truly arrogant of you to say considering your present circumstances, Colonel. I respect that. Really I do. But it's not going to change things."

"I never really liked you, Ohm, but I always thought that you were a good man. You saved the lives of everyone in District 13, probably saved the lives of everyone in this country. You still at least owe me a better answer as to why you would do this?"

"I may have been a good man, _once_, but that was before everything I ever loved was ripped away from me by a man named…_Snow_."

"A man who was executed for his crimes over twenty years ago!"

"Wrong, Dear Colonel! _Wrong!"_ Ohm says with an intense emotion I did not know his Reevox was capable of producing. "He was a man who died laughing from satisfaction so hard that he choked on his own arrogance. That is not justice. That is travesty."

"And murdering the tortured descendants of his inner circle is justice in your eyes?"

"Colonel," he says returning to his normal flat affect, "no one was ever murdered here. Murder is a crime that only _your_ kind engages in."

"Then you and I have a very different definition of murder. I saw the pictures of what you did to them….and to my sister."

"Ah yes, the "trophies" that you so astutely indentified…

_"Dammit, Driva,"_ I think to myself. _"You promised you wouldn't contact him with that information."_

"I assure you, all those individuals had at least _the chance_ to survive."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, the hunt, My Dear Colonel. No sane person ever considers the trophy buck to be the victim of the hunter. Merely, the kill is the completion of an ancient right of combat between man and animal."

"So, we are just animals to you?" I ask still fuming.

"Aren't you? Your forefathers certainly were. It's in your genetics, my boy. Why, your sister practically agreed with me on that point when she was standing in that exact spot just a few weeks ago…"

"Don't you dare mention Venus you bastard…" This time, _I _am silenced by his finger poised over the red button. Lizzy tenses as if she is about to feel the anguish again.

"So, you do care enough about someone to act in a civilized manner," Ohm says grinning from ear to ear. "Good, that is precisely what I hoped for."

"Whatever your sick plan is, let's just get it over with."

"Come, come now, Colonel Snow. Have a little sport about you. I would think after a lifetime of watching the Hunger Games, you would want to finally test yourself in an arena."

"I wouldn't want to force that horror on anyone…especially myself."

"Now, why don't I believe that coming from a man who has dedicated his life to war?"

"I find that ironic coming from the most prolific weapons designer of the modern age."

"Exactly! We are both killers, my old friend."

"I'm not your friend."

"Pity, if you insist on being so formal then, the rules: As you have probably guessed, you are on a volcanic island on the northern end of what's left of the Hawaiian Archipelago. Don't bother trying to escape. I have made certain modifications to ensure that it is quite impossible. Plus, we wouldn't want to risk anything happening to the lovely Mrs. Snow, now would we?" Ohm says gesturing to Lizzy. She can hear every word and tears begin to stream down her face. My hands clench in fists of fury.

"Agreed," I shout through gritted teeth.

"Rule Number 1: When the clock starts _you run_. Rule Number 2: When the clock starts you will have one minute before _they start running after you_," he says gesturing to the twenty guards still standing behind me.

"Don't have the courage to come after me yourself, Ohm?"

"Colonel Snow, let's be honest with each other. With my frail body, I wouldn't last an hour in that jungle out there. Luckily, some things that were true a thousand years ago are still true today: With the right amount of money you can acquire anything."

"Including mercenaries willing to sell their souls for a buck."

"I prefer to call them 'Soldiers of Fortune:' dedicated to fighting for the collective good while still seeing to their personal comfort and happiness. I call that a win-win situation. Wouldn't you?"

"You're insane."

"Perhaps, it's hard to tell anymore. I mean, you can only view the footage of your wife and child dying at the hands of your slave master's men about a hundred or so times before reality becomes a little hazy." I change the subject back to the hunt.

"What's the clock you're talking about?" I ask.

"Ah yes, you have twenty-four hours, My Dear Colonel. Twenty-Four Hours to live or die. Of course, none of your compatriots lasted near that length of time. However, you are _Ares Snow, _The God of War himself. Therefore, I've decided to add a special little twist for you: As you can see, I've constructed a little aquarium for your beautiful mermaid from District 4. If your heart is still beating when the clock runs out, she drowns."

"Then why don't you just kill me now and let her go!"

"Now where would the sport be in that? It is your choice, of course, but if you refuse to play the game, then I'll have to just go through with the consolation prize for your gorgeous wife. You see, even if I get the satisfaction of watching you die, I can't just let her go. She's seen too much and I can't have her _talking_ to anyone." The way he says "talking" fills me with dread.

"You can't be serious!" I exclaim as I realize what he is implying. Slowly, Ohm's silent, grinning lips part and for the first time I see inside the mouth of an Avox. "Mutilated" does not even begin to describe the horror of what I see. I am forced to swallow the vomit from the back of my throat. Lizzy appears about to pass out. Finally, Ohm ends the visual torture by closing his mouth and continues speaking through his artificial voice:

"I have never attempted the procedure myself, but I am anxious to give it a try."

"Why, of all people, would you want to do that to another living human being?"

"I happen to think it's very poetic: the voice of a Snow in repayment for the voice of an Ohm. Worry not, Colonel. In your dying breaths you can take comfort in knowing that her life as my servant will be very pleasurable. Her duties will be light, and they will consist mostly of seeing to my _comfort_.

There it is, laid out as plain as Ohm's insanity. I have two choices: Fight the hunt and live on without the only reason I wish to stay alive, or die with the knowledge that my one true love will spend the rest of her grotesque life as the butchered, mute concubine of a madman.

The world begins to spin. I cannot comprehend the hideous circumstances that I am forced to confront. Lizzy has collapsed to the floor of the plastic tube and is sobbing uncontrollably.

"Any other questions before we get started?" Ohm interjects.

"Just how all of us could have been so oblivious to the evil that was corrupting us all."

"Philosophical matters are those for your priest, Dear Colonel, not me. Are you ready or not?" I steady my resolve. I know that I cannot let him…or Lizzy…see any sign of weakness on my part.

"Before this is all over, Ohm, you will curse the day that the Rebels didn't shoot you in that courtyard."

"Oh, Colonel Snow, believe me. I already do." Silently, Ohm reaches for another button on the control panel and presses it. The steel doors in front of me violently swing open, revealing a long corridor that leads out into the jungle. Below the tube, a digital holoclock appears and begins counting backward from twenty-four hours. At that moment, a slow trickle of water begins from over Lizzy's head, beginning the inevitable flooding of "my mermaid's aquarium."

"Ares!" Lizzy screams down at me. "Run, save yourself!"

"I would listen to her, if I were you. After all, you have less than a minute before my hunters make the choice for you." Ohm chirps excitedly.

My mind and soul still feel trapped in that horrible pit, but luckily my body has enough sense to save us. I find myself sprinting down the corridor towards the dark jungle ahead. Just before I clear the outer doors, I hear one last sentence from the mechanical voice of my tormentor:

_"Ladies and Gentlemen! Let the Games Begin!"_


	13. Chapter 13

I charge through the brush at full speed, not slowing down for an instant. My lungs burn from the chokingly hot, humid night air, but the adrenaline keeps me moving forward. The huge wet, tropical leaves slap at my face and I jump and twist through the tangle of vines and undergrowth. I can feel the nicks and scratches of thorns and bark digging into my damp skin. The moist air and sweat have already caused the cotton of my t-shirt to glue itself to my body. Again, the adrenaline is my savior.

The loud noise I make doesn't matter. Everyone knows where I am. The hunters are already on my trail, and have spotted their prey. My only chance for survival is to put as much distance between them and me as I possibly can…_ rapidly_.

I cannot see the stars. The tree canopy is too dense. It is pitch black and I run on instinct alone. Who knows what dangers naturally lurk in this rainforest hell…or what manmade dangers could have been placed here as well? Ohm has already mentioned the Hunger Games. If there is one thing I understood from watching those twisted showcases of terror, it is expect the worst because it's usually true. But I don't have time to think about any of that now. My only motivation is too stay alive long enough to form a plan; even if it is ultimately a doomed one.

Suddenly, the silence of the night is pierced by a shrieking whistle I have heard many times before. Without any conscious thought, I fling myself forward and flat onto the wet mud of the forest floor. _KABOOM! _The artillery round explodes a few feet inside the tree canopy, sending deadly jagged shards of metal shrapnel and wooden splinters flying just inches above me. If I had not flattened out, I would be dead. When the shock of the explosion passes, I push to my feet and continue the sprint for life. The whistling returns and I dive for the safety of the ground again. My luck holds out. I am not fooled by this distraction, though. Ohm is a weapons genius and knows I am experienced in combat. Artillery like this is useless in the jungle where the tree cover is so dense it causes the rounds to explode far too above the ground to be really dangerous to those who know how to adapt. No, these are not designed to end the hunt; after all that would be too "unsporting." Obviously, he didn't expect me to move this far this fast, and wants to slow me down so that his hunters, with their heavy body armor and equipment, can finish the job. No doubt, he is looking forward to watching my painful demise live on the intricate network of surveillance devices that he has surely installed all over this island. In fact, he is probably laughing at my soaked, muddy appearance right now as he forces my wife to watch her beloved's end.

"_Lizzy!"_ the heartbreaking image of her sobbing in that aquatic torture device of Ohm's own sick creation fills me rage and keeps the adrenaline flowing enough to force me moving forward, but the delay caused by the artillery has cost me dearly.

"Over there! I'm reading him over there!" I hear the shout faintly through the trees.

"_Damn tracelet…"_ I think to myself. As long as it is manacled to my wrist, I'm a dead man. I won't be able to hide to rest: I'll just have to keep running until my body gives out and the hunters corner me. I think back to my Escape and Resistance training. Tracelets are waterproof and hardened against impact, but they do have a weakness…the epiphany hits my brain like a lightning bolt, too bad I don't have something to produce a…

The whizz of automatic fire slices through the trees and I hear the bullets fly close to me..._way too close_. The hunters are in direct fire range, but my movement combined with the thick foliage means they probably can't get an exact fix: not that it really matters with the firepower they're packing. Back in the pit, when I saw the assault rifles that the guards were carrying, I immediately recognized them as Mark 17s, the prototype that Ohm showed me that day in Special Defense. The haunting image of the perforated steel plate and destroyed target dummy makes me realize that there's not a lot out in this jungle that will save me from those bullets. Another burst of fire cuts through the leaves. I have to get to some kind of protection or I'm done for.

Just as I'm about to lose hope, I see what is my salvation. Over the eons, a creek has cut nearly ten feet deep into the jungle floor as it wound its way to the sea. In this darkness, it may be just enough to hide me and confuse their sensors until daylight when I can get a better grasp of my surroundings. Suddenly, it occurs to me that I don't even know how long daylight will be from now. I guess it doesn't really matter. At the very least, if it doesn't fool them, at least it will make it a little harder to shoot at me. I dive down into the miniature ravine, splash into the water below, and keep running without slowing down. After an agonizing minute of hoping for a miracle, I hear the few voices fading slowly into the blackness behind me.

"The signal is breaking up!"

"What do you mean? He was right here!"

"Keep looking, dammit, he's close." I see them shine bright white search beams through the trees, but thankfully, they're pointing in the wrong direction.

It seems my ruse has at least temporarily worked. I continue running along the creek bed. As fatigue and the cold wetness of sweat and humidity sink into my bones, I try to keep myself focused. Failure, in either direction, is not an option at this point. I refuse to let Ohm win. I have to find a way to escape from this nightmare.

"_When she took the last name, Snow, she made her choice."_ Ohm's words echo through my ears both as motivation and punishment. It was never Lizzy's fault. Her only mistake was falling in love with me. At that instant, I curse Fate for flinging me into such abysmal circumstances. Why did things have to be this way? Life would have been so much simpler if my name had been anything but Snow. Fate answers back with a memory that pops into my head and fills me with such a warm feeling of joy that my tired legs feel fresh and new. I run on.

"_When she took the last name, Snow, she made her choice."_ I remember the moment when she made that choice:

I awoke from a nightmare, pulse pounding, sheets drench in sweat and tears. She was beside me, still lying in blissful slumber, unaware of the thrashing and tossing next to her. One my first impressions of Elizabeth Odair when she finally began to spend her nights in my company, was how deep a sleeper she was. I swear I could have set off a firecracker next to her, and she wouldn't budge. "Clear Conscious," was the only explanation that I could settle on.

In the dim glow streaming in from the window, I looked down at her angelic, sleeping face and marveled at its lines, its curves, the way her hair fell across her shoulders like the finest silk, the creamy alabaster of her skin as it reflected the moonlight, the subtle movement of her gorgeous breasts as they rose and fell with every peaceful breath. However, the real miracle: the epiphany of that moment was that despite her tremendous physical beauty, it paled in comparison to the amazing beauty of her soul. Her tremendous faith in the inherent goodness of the human spirit, her willingness to put aside preconceived notions of hatred and prejudice and judge every single individual for the generosity and kindness within, but most of all, she did not see me as "Ares Snow, grandson of Coriolanus Snow" like every other person I had ever met: she simply saw me as _Ares_, the man she loved and the man who loved her.

Gently, my hand moved toward that perfect face and my fingers softly caressed her cheek, sweeping a few strands of hair away. She released an unconscious sigh of contentment that immediately put all my anxieties and uncertainties to rest. I knew at that moment that I lived for her and for her alone. As if the universe was guiding my actions, her eyes, her gorgeous green eyes that glistened like the sea after a storm opened and stared directly into mine.

"Hello there," she whispered in the quietest of voices.

"Hey," was my only ineloquent response.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, except for the fact that when this moment is over, I'm scared that I'll never be this happy again."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm afraid that if the answer to the question I'm about to ask is "No," you and I will never be the same again."

"Well, that depends on the question, doesn't it?" she says to me with a gentle hint of a smile. I gently stroke her hair again. She sighs once more and I know that she is as content in this perfect place as I am.

"Elizabeth Odair, be my wife." For what seems like an eternity, those green eyes just stare back at me. I worry that my fears will come true, but in one of the few times of my life when I was absolutely sure that I had done the right thing, I hear a single word from her lips.

"Yes."

"_When she took the last name, Snow, she made her choice."_ Ohm was absolutely correct, but it wasn't because of any kind of moral deficiency or latent evil as he would believe. Quite the opposite, it was because the good was so intense inside her little body that she would choose living in the joy of that one moment forever and risk the fate that confronts us now than to live the rest of her life in the safety of distrust and fear.

Lizzy placed her fate in my love. That is why she wanted me to run and save myself. I am sure of it. She knew that my love would save her as well, and on the price of my soul, I will not betray that. I will find a way.

As the first rays of daylight began to poke over the eastern horizon, I come to the end of the creek bed. The water continues to trickle down a natural, volcanic stone staircase and then disappears into mist over a cliff to the ocean below. My first thought is to break for the cliff and find a way down. Where there is heavy surf breaking on sheer rock wall, caves are sure to form and may be the perfect place to hide and regroup. I charge forward out of the tree line and down toward the edge. Just as I am about to reach it, I freeze as I realize that I am about six inches away from an instant death.

It was the dawn that saved me. If I had come here in darkness, I would have surely suffered an abrupt and ugly end. Just as the first beams of sunlight cause the surface of a pond to glisten, they occasionally cause other things to glisten as well, including a force field that would otherwise be invisible. I reach down and grab a rock from ground to test my theory. Taking a few steps back to a safe distance, I gently toss the stone towards the cliff. As if it was struck by lightning itself, the rock freezes in mid-air with a sickening sizzle and then falls to the ground smoking. It is immediately apparent that this isn't a normal force field, even for Hunger Games standards. The one that Peeta Mellark accidently hit during the third Quarter Quell was mere child's play compared to this thing which would most likely sear the skin from my bones like a blowtorch. The phrase passes back through my head: _"as if it was struck by lightning itself…"_

The wheels in my brain begin turning as I start to formulate a plan, but my contemplation is cut short by voices I hear rapidly approaching from the west.

"Signal's clear as a freakin' bell now."

"He's ours!"

"Come on, hurry!"

I'll have to save my idea for later. The hunters have found me, and there is no running away anymore. It's time to fight.


	14. Chapter 14

If there is one characteristic of great warriors throughout history, it is that they have always been able to find a way to use their surroundings against their enemies. Whether it is two cavemen trying to bash each other with clubs or two attack hovercraft pilots thousands of feet in the air, one thing seems to hold true: the one who can make the other come to them on their own terms will usually triumph despite overwhelming odds and strength. This is what I always loved about Katniss Everdeen. A skill that I have practiced years to develop (not entirely successfully, I might add) always seemed to come to her completely naturally: _make them fight your fight._

Now, as I find myself backed against a lethal wall of energy, in the open and downhill from a mob of killers armed with the latest technology of death, I know that this is certainly _not_ where I want the first showdown to occur. I run north, skirting the force field towards a rock outcropping. It is almost a natural wall that leads from the edge of the cliff back into the forest. As I reach its steep crags, I begin to climb as fast as I can. Just as I reach the top, I look back over my shoulder and see the three hunters break through the tree line. The first takes aim and fires. He is a poor shot and his bullets hit the rocks a few feet to my left. Just as the rest take aim, I dive behind the outcropping and run back uphill towards the jungle. The hunters now have two choices: climb up the outcropping after me with their heavy equipment, or go back into the jungle and find a way around. Either one they make, it still gives me time.

Facing them unarmed would be suicide. Even if I got the jump on them, by the time I finished the first one, the other two would have me dead to rights. No, whatever I do has to be fast and precise. I need something…need something…then I see it, exactly what I am looking for. Just as I suspected, this vein of rock must be an old lava flow that eons ago ran from the volcanoes in the island's center down towards the sea. Lava is a miraculous substance: composed of dozens of different materials heated to thousands of degrees in the depths of the earth. Most of these minerals are rather inert and uninteresting, but every once and awhile, a little bit of sand melts and cools just right to form a magic tool that helped our ancestors survive the stone age: _Obsidian_ or volcanic glass. About a hundred yards inside the trees, a slightly different shade of stone juts out from underneath the rocks. I dash down the side of the outcropping and toward what I hope will be my salvation. I look around trying to find a rock that will serve my purpose. After all, I only have time to try this once. Eventually, I settle on a fist-sized round stone, raise it high over my head and strike down hard at the lava flow. Nothing happens.

I can just begin to hear the hunters in the jungle. Looks like they went with option two and went back into the treeline to find a way around.

"C'mon, you bastard," I mutter angrily. As I raise the rock and slam it down again. Still Nothing. Doubt starts seeping in. Did I not recognize the rock correctly? Am I doing this right? Am I wasting valuable time? I decide to try once more before I bolt and run. This time, all bets are off. I rise to my feet, hold up my cave hammer, and wail down with all my might.

"_CRUNCH!" _ I hear as the rock gives way. It is absolutely perfect. Lying at my feet is a four-inch long sliver of translucent black glass. Along the side which peeled away from the lava flow is a perfect edge, five times sharper than a surgeon's scalpel. I have a weapon, and that may be enough.

I pick up my primitive knife and continue running north into the jungle. The hunters must have found a way around the outcropping because I can hear them growing closer as they hack and slash through the tangle of leaves and vines.

"_Fight on my terms….fight on my terms…" _I repeat the thought over and over again hoping for another useful revelation. Obviously, I have to take them by surprise. Not an easy task considering they can still follow my tracelet's signal. The trees? No, If they spot me up there before I can make my move, I'm a dead man. There must be something else. Rocks, vines, roots, a hole, anything! Panic begins to rise inside me. However, just as I think my string of good luck is finally running out, I spot it: a break in the tree line. A large depression in the ground has filled with stagnant water. The mire is almost black with decaying plant matter, but it is perfect for me. I see some reeds that have grown at the water's edge. I find a thick one, break it off at the base, and try to breathe. Not a lot of air, but enough, considering I must remain completely still.

They are very close now, probably no more than a hundred yards away. I'm amazed they haven't tried to fire at me again, but I figure after the chase I've put them through; they want to be slightly more up close and personal in their final business. I slip beneath the murky putrid mess. The stale smell is awful, like rotting garbage that has been left in the sun for too long, but I don't even think about it, the time to strike is so close, that I must remain completely focused. Four inches beneath the water, and I've already disappeared. My breathing through the reed snorkel is as quiet and light as I can make it without blacking out. I rest my feet gently on the bottom ready to spring my trap. I focus on becoming completely invisible, a part of nature itself that is about to strike those arrogant enough to challenge it.

They plunge through the trees and come into view. I can tell from their panting that they are exhausted, weighed down by their weapons, armor and gear in this heat. The words they say are muffled by the still water, but I can still hear their exasperated anger.

"_You said he would be right here!"_

"_Are you sure you're reading that thing right?"_

Another one pulls out a tracelet receiver.

"_Look, at the indicator!" _The one with the receiver has his back to me, and the others are distracted. The time is now.

I fly from the water like a missile and leap forward, wrapping my arms around the one with his back turned toward me. Everything around me turns to slow motion as I reach up and grab the hunter's chin, exposing his neck before I slash the obsidian blade in my hand across his throat. He falls limp and I feel the warm flow of fresh blood in my hands. I drop my cave knife and use him for a shield as I reach down to his hip and draw his pistol.

The second hunter standing just four feet in front of me freezes in fear. I do not hesitate as I aim and fire. The bullet strikes home, punching a hole straight through his visor, splattering it with brains. Before he even hits the ground, my eyes move to the third and final hunter. He is not as stunned as his counterpart was. I see his assault rifle start to move to his shoulder. I drop my human shield to the ground and jump at a sharp angle as a burst of rounds slices the air where I was just standing. As I fly through the air, I take aim once again with the pistol and fire a snap shot. The bullet glances off his armored helmet, but the shock is enough to send him tumbling to the ground stunned.

As he tries to claw to his feet in the soft mud, I calmly walk over and kick him in the side. He collapses onto his back and my boot's sole finds his throat. He gasps for air, but it is no use. He is now _my_ prey. As the world returns to normal speed, I reach down, unbuckle his chin strap, and toss his helmet aside. He stares up at me with gaping mouth and terrified eyes. I keep the muzzle of my new pistol pointed squarely between them.

"How many more?" I ask without pity or emotion.

"Ppplease," he manages to choke out through the pressure of my boot.

"How _many _more."

"The old man's got an army! At least a hundred more guys, plus all the computer freaks in the compound. That place is harder to crack than "The Nut" was back in the war."

"Are they all as good as you?" I ask sarcastically.

"Better, better, man. Hey, I just do this because of the money. That's it, it's only business. Nothing personal. Really, I swear."

"What about the others you killed? Were they personal to you? Because they were sure personal to me."

"C'mon, please. I have a family!" I can tell from his face he's about to black out.

"So do I." At that moment, my finger squeezes the trigger. A gun shot rings out through the jungle. Then, there is only silence.

For a moment, I look down to where the man's face once was. The adrenaline that has been my salvation since the beginning rapidly fades away and I soon realize that I am shaking like a leaf. Nausea sets in and I vomit the contents of my prison breakfast all over the jungle floor. I have killed before, but never this way. Never this personal and never this close up.

Somehow, my heart prays that this will all be over now. Ohm will realize that he made a terrible mistake, release Lizzy back to me, and let me escape with her as he flees into the sunset, never to be heard from again. My brain, however, is too old to believe in fairy tales. If this hunter was telling the truth, then there is a long way to go before I know what it is like to be safe again. The battle has begun: first blood has been spilled.

Rapidly, I begin the work of stripping everything useful of the bodies of the fallen. Each has a canteen strapped to their waist. I grab the nearest one, raise it to my mouth, and empty it into my dehydrated body without stopping. I grab the ones from the others for later. The second one I killed also had a radio strapped to his vest.

"_Might as well,"_ I think to myself. _"I may even be able to pick up on some enemy chatter." _I hook it securely to my belt and place the earpiece in. The weapons and ammo are also obvious choices. I unclip all their bandoliers, and throw them around my chest. I also keep the pistol, two hand grenades, and a hunting knife. In one of their pockets, I also find a pair of night vision glasses just like the ones Katniss used in the Seventy-Fourth Games. I decide to leave the body armor and helmets. I don't what them slowing me down as much as these jokers and if the Mark 17 lives up to the test that I put it through back at Special Defense, they wouldn't do me much good anyway. Next, I pry the tracelet receiver out of the hands of my human shield and click on the display. My exact location is displayed precisely.

"_If, I'm going to live through this, I've got to do something about this damned tracelet."_ The plan that crossed through my mind earlier returns and I immediately begin cutting the rubber soles off the dead hunter's boots. As fast as I can, I slice them into thin strips and place them in my pocket.

Finally, as I sling an assault rifle across my chest, I realize something that lifts my morale to the highest point since this all started:

"_I am armed, I am dangerous, and they know it." _I reach down to the radio and click the transmit button.

"Did you see that?" I say with a quiet fury into the microphone. "Did you see what I did to them? Let her go, or the same thing will happen to all of you…" I quickly release the button and prepare to run. Before I even have the chance to take one step, Ohm answers back.


	15. Chapter 15

_"HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!"_ the laughing that echoes through the jungle is so deafening that I must cover my ears to block out the pain. I try to figure out where it's coming from: maybe some secret speaker or drone flying through the air, but it seems to be emanating from the trees themselves.

"Wonderful, Colonel Snow, absolutely wonderful. Your skills have exceeded all my expectations."

"Does this works both ways?" I mutter.

"Yes, we can have a pleasant conversation as long as my cameras are trained on you." It seems my initial assessment was correct.

"So, you can _see_ me as well."

"I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say I've been following your progress with great interest from the very beginning." A gamble here is worth the risk. It may reveal what I've planned, but if I'm going to risk my life, I need this information to know if it's worth it. Time to see how smart…or just plain arrogant Ohm really is.

"So, that means I'm always being watched by your cameras?" I say trying to feign that I don't understand.

"As long as I know where to point them, yes."

_Bingo. _I change the subject to avoid dwelling on the point.

"Did you really expect those hunters to finish me off?"

"You are _an officer_. I had to see if all that sitting behind a desk had dulled your reflexes. I'm very happy to see that it hasn't. Ares "The Animal" Snow, a killing machine with Neanderthal ingenuity: has a wonderful ring to it, doesn't it?" I feel the rage rising again.

"Stop calling me an animal!"

"Your current appearance begs to differ."

"I'm sorry, I don't exactly have a mirror out here."

"Of course, how silly of me. Here, see if this helps make my point."

Suddenly, the entire sky fills with a holographic image: a live video feed of me standing in the jungle. Ohm zooms down right on my body. Every detail is crystal clear for the entire island to gawk at. Unfortunately, I see his point. My entire body is covered with caked black mud. Only my red bloodshot eyes and crimson stained hands stand out. Covered with weapons from head to toe, I do appear to be some kind of vicious monster: a killing machine without any sign of humanity.

"I get the point, Ohm, but this wasn't my choice. You forced my hand."

"The excuse of tyrants since the beginning of history: as the great artist Michelangelo once said, '…the masterpiece was always there, I just chipped away a few rough edges.'"

"You think I actually intend to continue to my family's legacy of tyranny and murder? Hell, after all the time we've spent together, I'd think you know me better than that"

"Maybe, My Dear Colonel, but I apologize if you think….I'm dragging your name… _through the mud. Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha!"_

The maniacal laughing begins echoing through the trees once more. I have never seen this side of Ohm before. He always was so cool and calculating in actions. Now, it seems he has truly revealed his inner self: a psychotic sadist who loves to view the suffering of others in repayment for his own pain.

"Shut up! Shut up, damn you!" I scream shaking my fist at the sky. The hologram mirrors my every move and just makes me seem more helpless than I already am.

"Maybe I should ask for a second opinion? What do you think, Mrs. Snow?" The image in the sky suddenly shifts to my wife. The steady stream of water into the tube has continued. The level is now around her knees.

"Lizzy!" I scream. Her eyes widen as she realizes I can see her. She presses the palms of her hands against the plastic.

"Ares…" she manages to choke out. I know her well enough to realize she is holding back tears. Apparently, I am not as strong as she is. I can feel warm streaks washing away some of the mud from my face. "Ares, whatever happens, just realize that no matter what I always love you. No matter what!" I understand what she means. She would rather her life end today than mine. "Run! Escape, like I know you can!"

"Lizzy, It'll be alright. Nothing will happen to either of us. Just hold on! I'm coming for you!" I scream towards the sky.

"No! No don't, you'll die!"

"We're both gonna make it out of here just fine, I promise." The audio cuts out. I see her lips moving but hear nothing. Ohm's thunderous voice returns.

"_How touching._ Two fools so in love that neither of them can realize the hopelessness of their respective situations. Shakespeare couldn't have written this better."

"You sick bastard!"

"_Careful_, Colonel Snow," Ohm says in a condescending voice. Lizzy freezes in terror once more. Even though I can't see him, I know he must be holding his finger over the button again. I immediately cease my tirade, if just for her welfare. "That's better now, I cannot stand a lack of civility, even in combat."

I am so angry I literally growl back at him.

"Oh, there's the animal I love to watch so much. I really did enjoy this conversation, Colonel. I hope you'll live long enough so that we may have another, but I really can't guarantee that, of course."

"Of course."

"Twenty hours left, Colonel Snow." I look back to the silent image of Lizzy as the water slowly rises around her. "Make your choice," he repeats once again. "In the mean time, I'm sending you two little presents. It's funny, had they been ready sooner, I might have even brought them to one of our little meetings I enjoyed so much."

_"Uh Oh…"_

"May the odds be ever in your favor, My Dear Colonel. Farewell…hopefully, just for now."

As Ohm's voice and the holoimage in the sky fade away, I become aware of a faint buzzing off in the forest that is growing closer and closer. Immediately, I run back into the trees, trying to find some cover from whatever I'm about to face. I see a tangle of exposed roots ahead and dive down into the dark mass. The buzzing continues to grow louder and louder until finally I see them: two white spheres, each about a foot in diameter, skimming ten feet off the ground through the jungle. As they grow closer, I realize that they each have what appears to be a miniature machine gun mounted underneath.

They slow down as they approach, scanning back and forth. As they close within a hundred feet, they simultaneously turn directly at me. I shove myself backwards through the tangle of roots just in time as they open up with their automatic weapons, sending a spray of bullets right where I was sitting.

The hail of fire continues as I bear crawl through the undergrowth and break free to the other side. The buzzing increases in intensity once more as they accelerate around to get a better shot. They move in a rapid, weaving pattern, slicing through the air as if they were being batted by an invisible tennis racquet. I take off into a sprint as they fire again. Bullets slice into the ground behind me, peppering my legs with dirt and debris.

I bob and weave in a zig-zag pattern, hoping to throw them off my trail, but they always stay just a few steps behind me.

_"Think, Ares, Think! How are they staying with you?"_ Could they be human controlled? No, their movements are too fast. Plus, it would not be difficult for an operator to lead me through the sights and calculate a shot. No, they must be automatically tracking me somehow…._tracking!_ Of course, they're being guided by the tracelet signal.

I decide to test my theory. I thrust my wrist out to my left side and then quickly dive to the right. A blast of bullets lands right where my hand was.

_"Ok, now I know what they're looking for, how do I get away? How did I get away from being tracked before? The creek bed!"_

I tear left and head back towards what I hope will save me for a second time this morning. More bullets fly just past me, barely missing my head. Good thing I decided to leave the body armor…

I continue dodging and ducking through the brush until I see the ravine just ahead. Once again, I dive downward.

"Whoah!" I scream out loud as I make a flying leap. Obviously, I didn't realize just how deep this was last night. I hit the ground and roll, twisting my ankle as I strike the mud below. A wave of pain shoots up my leg.

"Not now! Not now!" I curse through my painful breaths. I lay motionless in the shallow running water as I wait, hoping the pain will subside so I can keep moving, but it doesn't. The buzzing grows louder and louder as the drones approach. If this doesn't work, I'm trapped…and _dead_. Suddenly, they stop coming closer. I reach into my pocket and pull out the receiver. The screen displays a single sentence:

_"Searching for Signal."_

I may be saved. Slowly, I am able to climb to feet and put some weight on my ankle. It is still painful, but I know I must soldier up and deal with it. Careful to keep my wrist as low in the ravine as possible, I climb up an exposed root and peer over the edge of the creek bed. The two drones hover motionlessly, side by side, as if they are confused. Their guns sweep from side to side, but do not fire.

After a few quiet seconds, they separate into a search pattern, obviously trying to re-acquire me. I slowly crawl back down the root and into the ravine. With methodical precision, I raise up my rifle, click the safety off, and wait. One of the drones makes a lethal mistake and sweeps over the ravine. Instantly, it appears to detect the tracelet and its gun moves in my direction. _Too late. _It's already in my crosshairs and I fire. A quick burst of rounds rips through its thin, metal shell and the white sphere bursts into flames and falls into the creek, smoking. It's partner detects that it has been destroyed and quickly flies over. Another mistake: a second burst of rounds takes it down as well.

"Probably, should have kept those in the development phase a little longer…" I whisper hoping that Ohm is still listening.

I scan the wreckage to see if there is anything useful. Unfortunately, the machine guns use a different type of bullet than my other weapons. It's probably for the best though, since I don't want to weigh myself down too much.

I try putting weight on my ankle again. It's still painful, but at least I can move on it. The cool water of the creek helps as well. It seems impossible that I am unharmed in any other way, but I guess Fate is on my side…at least for now. I begin to limp back down the creek bed. After a few dozen yards, my ankle loosens up a bit and I break into a slow run.

The drones were the last straw. This thing on my wrist is eventually going to get me killed as has to go. Thanks to Ohm's unintentional gaff, I now know that without it, his cameras won't be able to find me either. The odds will be even; well _almost _even. I reach down and make sure the rubber strips from the hunter's boots are still there. Thankfully, they are. Without them, my plan has no chance of success and I will end up like a piece of well-done steak.

Just in case, I click the radio to transmit once more.

"Elizabeth," I say while still on the run. "I know they must be monitoring these transmissions, so I pray that you can hear this. Please understand, the risk I'm going to take is absolutely necessary. Without it, I don't stand a chance.

I just realized that I never told you back there that I love you, too. You are my whole world and my whole existence. If I fall here, always remember that I'll be looking down at you…forever."


	16. Chapter 16

As I near the end of the creek bed, my ankle feels much better. I can sprint at almost full speed now.

_"At least I'm still able to run away,"_ I bemusedly think to myself. Hopefully, I won't be just running for much longer. I'm not sure if it's the knowledge that my wife needs me, or just the plain fact I don't want Ohm to win, but either way the dual motivation of seeing Lizzy in imminent danger while that long-haired freak watches our suffering with gleeful delight seems to be the best medicine.

The sunlit cliff edge appears through the end of the trees. The receiver begins to beep, telling me that I'm being tracked again. I've got to move fast before he can stop me with another one of his little "presents." Before I reach the end of the jungle, I look around and find two fallen palm fronds. I crinkle them back and forth to make sure they are _bone_ dry. If they're wet I'm dead.

_"Man,"_ I let myself thinks for a second. _"They're sure a lot ways to die doing this."_ I went through SERE (or Survival Escape Resistance and Evasion) training when I was 18. One of the topics they covered was how to disable tracking devices. I do my best to recall my instructor's words carefully. Details are really important right now.

"The important thing to remember is that most tracer technology is very sensitive to being exposed to large amounts of electricity." Large amounts of electricity that are found in things precisely like the force field. "If you can pass a current of sufficient strength through the device without exposing yourself to the current's effects, nine times out of ten you will disable it." My nervousness grows as I remember what happened next. When he tried to give us a practical demonstration, he miscalculated the voltage and stopped his own heart. It took three medics and a defibrillator to revive him. Hopefully, I won't make the same mistake.

I run down towards the edge, carefully scanning for Ohm's barrier. Unfortunately, it has disappeared into the brightness of day. Just to be safe, I pick up another rock and throw it. It impacts the field ten feet from me and falls to the ground as it sizzles with heat.

_"Good, he hasn't caught on yet and turned the damn thing off."_ As fast as I can, I begin to strip off all my gear. Meticulously, I make sure that there is no other metal touching my skin. With the power I'm about to expose myself to, the heating that would occur causes third degree burns instantly. Next, I open one of my remaining canteens and place it directly at my feet.

_"Just to be safe," _I say to myself.

I place the palm fronds shoulder width apart on the ground. Plant materials like wood and leaves, once dried, insulate against flowing current. I'll stand on them to block the flow of electricity from passing from me into the earth. Otherwise, it will be like turning on a light bulb…with me as the glowing wire filament.

Finally, I grab the pieces of rubber from my pocket: the final safety measure. I have to make sure that no piece of the tracelet comes into any contact with my body so that the current flows through it rather than me. I wince as I think how painful what I'm about to do will be.

_"C'mon, Soldier. Just do it."_

I begin to shove the pieces of boot sole into the tiny gap between the tracelet and my skin. My flesh doesn't fare well as the friction of the rubber begins to rub my skin away like pencil lead. I just grit my teeth to block the pain and keep going. As I manage to shove the final strip underneath the tracelet, my hand literally begins to throb as all circulation is cut off by what is essentially a tourniquet. Within a few seconds, it has turned purple and swelled up like a balloon.

_"Better make this quick,"_ I think as my entire arm begins to grow numb. I won't be able to control it as carefully as I need to in order to make sure I don't accidently hit the force field with any other part of my arm. I reach down with my right hand and lift my dead stump up and into position. Soon, the tracelet is hovering just an inch away from the field of death.

Ohm must finally realize what I'm about to try because the thundering voice from the trees returns. My heart jumps as the surprise nearly causes me to bump the force field.

"What are you doing, Colonel Snow?"

"Well, howdy doo, Rikard. Good to talk to you again."

"Surely, you can't be seriously considering this course of action? The odds are you'll end up like a sausage over a campfire!"

"Maybe, but if it works it may make this whole thing a little more interesting for us. I thought that's what you wanted right?"

"Don't you dare try it, Snow." His voice is growing serious now. I think Ohm is actually getting concerned. "Do you want your wife to watch as you burn alive? That force field is one of the most powerful on the planet."

"She can either watch me burn alive, or die is some other grizzly fashion that your sick mind comes up with. I might as well…_make my choice_."

"I'm warning you for the last time, Snow. Don't do it. I'll even let you recover your gear and run back into the jungle unmolested for a whole ten minutes."

"Ah, I don't think so, Rikard. I appreciate the offer though."

"If it's something more interesting you want, Colonel, I can always throw in some Quarter Quell style surprises. How does that suit you?"

"Quarter Quell this, _bitch_," I growl through my teeth. "This is for you, Lizzy," I say with one last deep breath.

"Shut it off! Shut it off!" I hear Ohm yell to some nameless technician, but he's too late. I shove the tracelet directly into the force field. Every muscle in my body clenches as a million volts jumps through it into my body. I cannot move, breathe, and the only thought in my head is:

_"Pull away! Make this stop!"_ but I can't. Just as I about to think I'm done for, the technician follows through with Ohm's orders and the field deactivates. As soon as control of my body returns, I leap back towards my gear and collapse. The rubber has been superheated by the smoking tracelet and is beginning to melt into my skin. I grab the canteen and pour it onto my wrist. Sizzling steam rises from the tracelet as it cools back down. As I begin to pull the burnt rubber shreds from underneath it, wonderful circulation returns my hand to normal. I look to where I had been standing before. Two black scorch marks precisely in the shape of my feet are burned into the palm fronds. I don't even want to think about the damage that could have occurred to the inside of my body.

_"Hope this was worth it,"_ and there's only one way to find out. I reach for the receiver and check the display. What I see literally causes me laugh with joy.

_"Critical Error. Signal Lost."_ I've done it. Now, stealth is my ally once again and the fight is no longer impossible. I can win…and Ohm knows it too.

As I'm about to finish strapping my gear back to my body, his thunderous voice returns. In his artificial tones is the anger of a genius that has proven a fool by his own invention.

"I WARNED YOU! I WARNED YOU ABOUT BREAKING THE RULES, DIDN'T I?"

"I only recall hearing you say there were two rules, Ohm. 'I run and they run after me.' I don't remember a damn thing about me trying to even the odds a bit," I say as I pick up my assault rifle from the ground.

"Regardless, now you will pay the price for your actions!"

"And exactly what is that, Rikard? Are you going to try and kill me again?" I say with an arrogant sarcasm that I immediately regret. The price ends up being worse than I could have possibly imagined.


	17. Chapter 17

"When I misbehaved in service to your grandfather, do you know what happened to me?"

"He sent you to bed without any supper?" Ohm's rage continues to simmer and build.

"_Hardly_. The beatings were the easiest part. Eventually, your body stops reacting to physical pain. No, that is why President Snow saved a special treat for me. Sometimes, it was when I had failed to fold his shirts to his exact specifications. Others, it was when there was a spot on his favorite table linens. Sometimes, it was just because he felt bored….His guards would drag me to a viewing room in the back of his private quarters. There was a special chair: a chair made of steel that no matter how long you laid in it, was ice cold. So cold, it would numb the skin seconds. I would be strapped down, so tight that the leather manacles would cause my wrists and ankles to bleed. Then, my head would be locked in a cold steel vise, followed by a pair of lid locks. Do you know what it's like to have a pair of steel hooks crammed underneath your eyelids and then screwed open, Colonel? Feeling your eyeballs dry out and tear until some nameless assistant remembers to drip some saline into them?" Ohm's ranting is becoming angrier and more nonsensical. I actually begin to grow frightened. I hold out my hands to the sky in a gesture of feigned friendship.

"No, I don't, Rikard. I'm very sorry about what President Snow did to you. Please, understand that I hate him as much as you do."

"Oh, I doubt that very much, Ares, for we haven't even gotten to the best part yet. _He _would stand over me, breathing his disgusting rose-scented stench into my face; a smile creeping across his crimson lips. He would tell me whatever he was upset about, his snake eyes glowing in the dim yellow light of the room, savoring the agony that I was about to endure. Snow wouldn't even bother to wipe his damn mouth with a handkerchief as he was speaking. He would just let the blood drip onto my face from his diseased lips…"

Suddenly, a clap of thunder echoes across the island. Large clouds form in the sky, blocking out the sun. I soon notice that there is something very off about these clouds: something unnatural. Another clap of the thunder and I feel raindrops hitting my head. The sound of the rain on the leaves of the jungle grows louder and louder till it is almost deafening. My mouth drops in horror as I realize that I have seen this once before, but it didn't have the same effect on screen as it does in real life. Looks like Ohm wasn't kidding about throwing in some Quarter Quell surprises. As the tiny rivers formed by the sudden deluge drip down my face and into my mouth, the warm, salty taste confirms that this isn't any illusion. Blood is falling from the sky, and it is only getting worse. I dash toward the trees trying to find some shelter as Ohm continues his rant.

"Sometimes, there would be a prick of a syringe as well. It depended on his mood. If it was a minor infraction, like say not filling his wine glass enough, it might be as little as a trace. However, if it was something major, like a chip on his favorite set on bone china, he would inject enough into my veins to almost kill me. Have you ever been injected with Tracker Jacket venom, Colonel Snow?"

"No Rikard, I haven't." I say trying to find some shelter among the leaves, but there is none. The storm has only grown in strength. The jungle is now starting to flood with crimson. The creek bed which had been a mere trickle a few minutes ago is now nearly filled to the top with a flowing river of blood. "Again, I'm very sorry about what was done to you. I honestly deplore it as much as you do, but you have to realize that it wasn't our fault. We both have the same enemy, and killing me isn't going to change that." Ohm ignores my apology once more.

"Since you don't know what it's like, let me try to describe the sensation of the world around you, melting into burning fiery pain. But it's different than any other pain you've ever felt because it comes from _inside_ of you. Leaving everything you experience completely unaffected, or so it seems to you. The hallucinations blend seamlessly into reality. Suddenly, it seems completely normal to see poisonous snakes and spiders crawling out of people's mouths and eyes, dropping all over you before they begin to bite at your flesh. I always tried to scream, but thanks to my surgical alterations, all I could do was make muted gasps of horror." The flood of blood continues to grow. My legs sink in the red mud until they are up to my ankles.

"Rikard, please stop this."

"I always tried to ask that same thing to my torturers, but of course I couldn't, Colonel Snow." He continues, "That's when the recording of my wife and son's death would begin, just as the horror of the venom reached its zenith. My son dies first. A Peacekeeper grabs him by his neck, lifts him into the air, and puts a pistol to his head. Then, in a flash, he is just gone: dropping off camera and forever out of existence. My wife's execution, however, is much more up close and personal. They shoved the camera directly into her face so that her horrified, screaming visage would fill the entire screen. Through her tears, she always asks the same question, 'Why are they doing this, Rikard. What did _you_ do?' Yes, my wife blamed my actions for my family's execution. Then, the same Peacekeeper puts his pistol, still splattered with my son's brains, behind her head and pulls the trigger. Snow always had the video slowed down, so that I could see the bullet pass through her forehead, the same forehead that I kissed so lovingly every day my previous happy life…Do you know what it's like to watch your wife suffer and be powerless to do anything about it, My Dear Colonel?..."

"Lizzy!" I scream over the sound of the red rain pouring down around me.

"Why don't we find out?" The holoimage in the sky returns projected against the crimson clouds. Lizzy is panicking in her plastic prison. The water has now reached almost to her waist.

"Ares!" she yells hoping that I can hear her.

"Elizabeth, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I scream over and over again but apparently Ohm keeps my words silent to her.

"Do you finally want to know what the little red button does, Colonel?"

"Ares," Lizzy continues, "don't let him break you. No matter what he does, I will still…._AHHHHHH_!" Lizzy's entire body clenches in pain. She screams in agony and the sound of her suffering echoes through the entire jungle. I press my hands over my ears as hard as I can, but cannot block out the sound of my wife's torture.

Lizzy is briefly released from the pain and manages a few more words.

"Ares, don't look just don't look. I know it's not you! I know it's not your fau…_AHHHHHHHH_!" Lizzy's violent screaming returns. I huddle on the floor of the jungle as the tide of blood rises around me.

"Make it stop! Just make it stop!" My pleas seem to fall on deaf ears.

"So it seems the mighty God of War does indeed have a weakness….._HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!"_ Ohm's thunderous laughing returns and blends with my wife's piercing cries of pain. My tortured mind doesn't know what else to do. My only desire is to block out the hell around me. I press my head down into the mud pushing my face deep into the blood-soaked earth trying to find any kind of quiet refuge.

"It seems like Ares has become…._an ostrich_! Do you find that funny, Mrs. Snow?" I choke on the mix of dirt and blood. My breathing slows, as my heart begins to flutter. All I want is to die and end this sickness once and for all. Images of my grandfather's face pass through my mind as Ohm's laughing blends with the vision to become one picture of terror. Suddenly, I am the Avox strapped to the chair, unable to move, speak, or even cry out in horror. I just want my pathetic life to end and this pain to stop. I want to vindicate Ohm and have my evil family name die right here and now with me in the mud.

However, just as I am about to black out, Lizzy's screaming stops and she saves me once again. Through her gasping breaths, I hear her rejuvenating words:

"No, Ares, get up! Fight for me Ares! Fight like I know you can. YOU CAN'T LET HIM WIN! GET HIM FOR ME! SWEAR YOU'LL GET HIM!"

The world instantly changes. My face is no longer buried in the mud. I am on my feet and running through the jungle. My hands clench around my weapon as Lizzy's orders have given me the focus of a laser beam. There is now only one way to end the evil lineage of the Snow name. A Snow must stop this evil, and erase it from the world once and for all.

I look back into the sky just in time to see Lizzy's body give out from the agony and she collapses unconsciously into the pool around her. Her head comes to a rest just above the water line.

"You failed, Ohm! Once again you've proven just what a fool you are! Nothing has changed. I'm still alive and still going to kill you. The only difference is now I have more of reason to savor your last breaths before I end your life!"

Ohm's laughing has now turned back to fury.

"Very well, Colonel! The Games shall continue as planned. Your wife still lives and I still hold all the cards. I'll be sure to keep a recording of this little exchange to show along with the footage of your death for when she's the silent one strapped helplessly into a steel chair!"

"Bring your worst, old man! I'm still willing to play if you are!"

"EXCELLENT! Fourteen hours left till the mermaid breaths her last gasps so be sure not to hide like a coward for too long!"

Less than a minute later, the whistling returns, but this isn't a few random rounds designed to slow me down. No, this artillery barrage is designed to level half the island. Explosions rip through the trees, sending falling branches and metal shards screaming through the air around me. I keep running as fast as I can toward a small group of rocks I see in the distance. They are my only chance to get shelter from the steel and blood storm that continues to rage around me. Another artillery shell explodes directly above my head in the canopy. I feel shrapnel tear through my arm and rip into my flesh but I still don't stop. That's what he wants.

I suddenly remember that he's no longer able to track me. If I can disappear, he'll lose me until a time and place of my choosing. I break sharply to the right, running deeper into the jungle's cover. The strategy seems to be working as I notice the artillery impacts beginning to spread out more. Eventually, I dive into a depression shaded by another tangle of tree roots and begin to crawl.

The explosions fade into the distance and soon the only sounds are the blood rain dripping through the trees and my own breath as I struggle onward. Ohm must have lost me, because his voice returns for a final time.

"Keep running, Colonel! Don't you dare stop, because as soon as I find you, I will laugh as I force your little Lizzy to watch you die!"

_"Alright, Ohm,"_ I think as I continue to crawl through the cover of roots and branches. Finally, I see a gap at the other end and take off sprinting once more toward the rocks in the distance. _"I'll keep running. I'll keep running straight for you…"_


	18. Chapter 18

The blood rain begins to lighten as I reach the rocks. Another large outcropping of stones, lying against the side of a hill: probably the remains of an ancient landslide. I quickly scan the exterior, and on the far side, think I find what I am looking for. A small cave lies sheltered underneath a natural stone awning. More importantly, a small trickle of clear water flows down the rocks and out toward the jungle.

_"A Spring!" _My canteens are long since empty and the exertion has built a burning thirst in my throat. I slip on the night vision glasses, raise my weapon, and crawl inside of the dark cave. I scan my surroundings briefly, only to quickly realize that I am thankfully alone in here. The cave extends for perhaps fifty feet back inside the side of the hill before coming to a stop at a solid wall of rock. A crack in the wall produces a tiny stream of water that drips into a pool at the back. I greedily bend down and dunk my head into the pool, gulping the water until I can't take another sip. Spring water is usually safe because it is naturally filtered through stone and sand. If I'm wrong at this point, it probably won't matter anyway because I'll be dead from dehydration in a few hours if I don't drink.

After my fill of water, my attention turns to my injuries. I dip a canteen into the spring, roll up my sleeve, and gently pour a stream of water over my arm. The blood and dirt wash away, revealing three long gashes cut into my right forearm. Nothing too serious, but they'll definitely have to be patched up to prevent infection. The question is patched up with what? I rip a small strip from the bottom of my t-shirt, wash it in the spring, and then wrap it around my arm like a bandage. The cool clean water feels so refreshing on the wound that I don't hesitate to dunk my left wrist into the spring as well. The skin underneath the tracelet was burned by the melting rubber, and now the salt from the drying blood rain combined with the constant rubbing of the tracelet is proving to be very annoying.

The magnetic interlocks should have been deactivated when the tracelet was shorted out. Now, it's just a matter of picking the lock. But again,with what?

I'm too tired to think about it right now. I have not stopped moving in over ten hours and need to rest, if only for a little while. I lean back against the cool stone of the cave wall as my eyes grows heavy.

_"Can't sleep for too long. Just a few minutes….Lizzy…needs…me…."_

I feel so foolish, standing on beach like this in my dress blacks, but Lizzy told me that she has been dreaming of a traditional District 4 wedding since she was a little girl. Far be it for me to be the one who ruins that for her.

Her father will perform the ceremony as has been the tradition for these people since ancient times. He stands behind me in the warm sand. The rest of the Odairs form a mob that separate me from Lizzy. It is their job to make sure that I don't see her until the time is right. I've never really been familiar with District wedding rituals. It was something that was not covered in my martial education. Every motion and every word has significance so deep that the average Capitol peon with their neon clothes and lacquered hair would be far too shallow to understand. It's not about the glitz or glamour for these people. It's about the love. I made sure that Lizzy explained every single step of the ceremony to me again last night before we parted. I wanted to get everything perfect: both for her sake and mine.

Just as I try to take one last deep breath, Lizzy's father leans forward and grabs my hand.

"Just remember, boyo," he says in his friendliest district accent, "after this, you'll be my son as well. Don't disappoint me."

"Any final pieces of advice?" I ask back in a whisper.

"Learn to duck. Odair women like to throw things when they're angry." He points to a small scar on his forehead. "First time me mother caught me drunk."

I manage an awkward laugh before he hits me hard on the back.

"Welcome to the family, Ares."

"Thank you, Sir." A blast from a conch shell and the entire crowd of family parts like a biblical sea. There she is, _the love of my life_: clad from head to toe in vibrant cream colored silk decorated with brilliant polished shell and coral beadwork. As it has been for generations, Lizzy made the dress herself with the help of every other woman in her family. It will become something saved and treasured that will be in her possession until her dying day. Her long, red hair is braided with intricate knots that must have been tied with a master's hands, delicately interwoven with more polished shells.

As she begins the walk towards me and her father, Aunt Annie walks a few feet behind her carrying a fishing net woven from grass, however, it is not grass from District 4. Another man wove this net in District 13 almost twenty years ago for a different wedding. When Lizzy chose Annie as her net-bearer, Annie donated an incredible gift that in District 4 is almost unheard of, her wedding net. That was the last straw for Finnick Jr. The idea of a Snow throwing his father's wedding net set him into a rage that caused him to take to the sea. He hasn't been heard from in days.

Lizzy slowly steps forward until we stand side by side. Annie hands me the net with a kiss to my cheek. As Lizzy explained it, this will be the first step to joining us together for the rest of our lives, _I have to catch her_. I throw the net over her head and pull her next to me. As she stands just a few inches away, smiling through the grass knots back at me, I throw the net over my own head, and we are locked together.

Mr. Odair begins the ancient words of the ceremony.

"Love is force as unstoppable and immovable as the tides. To fight it, would be as foolish as a man trying to stop the waves from crashing to the shore. We are gathered here together today to bond this man and this woman together forever in the most sacred of ways. If any witness here thinks this be wrong, let him speak now or forever be silent….

_"Good thing Finnick isn't here…" _

Mr. Odair turns to me.

"Ares, do you solemnly swear that from this day until the ending of the word, to be the Navigator of Elizabeth's heart, to guide her away from the shoals of pain and sorrow, and be her anchor against all storms?"

"I swear."

"Elizabeth, do you solemnly swear that from this day until the ending of the word, to be the Navigator of Ares' heart, to guide him away from the shoals of pain and sorrow, and be his anchor against all storms?"

"I swear."

Mr. Odair produces a simple clay bowl which he hands to Annie. She walks into the surf and fills it to the brim with seawater before returning and handing it to him.

"From the sea, we all came and one day to it will return." He dips two fingers from his right hand into the bowl and then holds them in front my mouth. I kiss them as he says, "As the brine touches your lips, take it as a reminder of where we once came and that the joy of this union should be savored until it is time for your return." He dips his fingers back into the bowl and then places them in front of Lizzy. She kisses them as he repeats, "As the brine touches your lips, take it as a reminder of where we once came and that the joy of this union should be savored until it is time for your return."

Right on cue, all the witnesses begin to sing in beautiful harmony:

_As I pointed my ship's bow away from home…_

_I asked Heaven, "Must I sail alone?"_

Lizzy's eyes fill with tears of love and joy. It is everything in my power not to taste her lips right then and there, but she told me that this would be terrible luck. The song must finish before our first kiss.

_Through sun and storm, through wind and wave_

_It is your love that will always save…_

"By the power vested in me by the sea's holy judgment, I now pronounce this man and this woman to be married! You may kiss the bride.

Lizzy and I jump forward, wrap our arms around each other, and kiss with a passion that will never die. Nothing could spoil this moment. Nothing accept…

My eyes shoot open, and the pain returns. I am back in the cave. A tear has run down my face during my dream. I reach up with my fingers, wipe it away, and then taste it. Its saltiness reminds me of Mr. Odair's prophetic words.

I look out the opening of the cave. The blood rain has stopped, and the bright afternoon sun has returned in its place. I reach over and grab my rifle, knock out the locking pins, and field strip it down. I grab the bolt carrier from the receiver and slam it on the rocks. The firing pin slides out the back and into my hands.

I feel it for a few seconds. It seems impossibly light.

"Must be one of those alloys of his personal design that Ohm was talking about…Time to see how good you really are, Rikard." If I break this pin, the entire rifle becomes useless. Risks have paid off so far today. Why stop now?

I hold out my left wrist, and insert the pin into the lock on the tracelet.

As I begin to work it in the lock, Mr. Odair's words pass through my thoughts again:

_"Do you solemnly swear that from this day until the ending of the word, to be the Navigator of Elizabeth's heart, to guide her away from the shoals of pain and sorrow, and be her anchor against all storms?"_

Finally time I started living up to that oath. Ohm's taunts finally seem to make sense to me now.

_"Ares, the God of War, himself," _he has repeated over and over again.

That's the real reason that Ohm saved me for last. Not because I was the youngest of the Sixteen, but because I was the only one who was a real warrior. He's tired of slaughtering old, worn out exiles. He spent the Revolution locked in slavery, unable to fight in any way against the Snows. All he could do was lead another group of Soldiers to the last refuge of his master, and this was never good enough revenge. No, the last Snow is now a force to be reckoned with, and the Avox finally has the resources to fight back. _He_ wants the glory this time.

I jerk the firing pin to the right and hear the click I've been waiting for. I reach down, pull the tracelet free from my wrist and throw it against the cave wall as hard as I can.

"You want a real fight, Rikard Ohm?" I find myself speaking out loud. "You want the blood of a Snow who can actually fight back? You want your own personal little war? You've betrayed my nation, kidnapped the innocent, murdered the helpless, and now you've tortured my wife right in front of my eyes…" I place the firing pin back in my rifle, reassemble my weapon, slam a fresh magazine into the receiver, and slide the bolt forward with a click. "You want a war? _I'll give you a war you won't believe…"_


	19. Chapter 19

The Sun is just beginning to set over the volcano as I approach Ohm's compound. I carefully scan it through the trees to get a better idea of what I'm dealing with. It appears to be built into the side of the mountain. A large balcony jutting out from the rock face overlooks a huge courtyard filled with ground vehicles, hovercraft, ammunition crates, and shipping containers. A twenty-five foot tall concrete wall ringed with razor wire separates the compound from the rest of the jungle. Two guard towers with emplaced machine guns loom at the two corners of the wall.

_"Damn, they have spotlights…" _No doubt that will be scanning the forest closely as soon as the sun goes down._ "Not that it would matter looking at those gates."_ The main gates are twenty-feet tall, made of solid steel and seem to be bolted firmly shut from the inside. It would take something massive to bring those things down. Ohm definitely didn't skimp on the budget when he built this little island getaway.

A single-lane dirt road leads from the gate out into the jungle. It winds and twists for a little over a mile before it reaches a hoverpad and dock complex located on the only beach visible on this side of the island. That road is how I found my way back to the main compound, and how I intend to get into Ohm's little fortress. The question is _how to get inside?_

Just as I'm about to decide to sneak back into the cover of the trees and wait for darkness, I receive a wonderful little present. It seems Ohm needs a little break from his control room. He steps out onto the balcony and gazes out over the jungle. One of his bodyguards stands directly next to him. I see them exchange a few words that I'm unable to make out at this range. From the way his arms are flailing, I can see that he's still upset about our exchange a few hours ago. I can only pray that he hasn't taken his rage out any further on Lizzy, but I've resigned myself to the fact that I can't let him use her against me again. That's what Lizzy was trying to tell me back there. If we're going to escape together, then I have to be focused. Whatever he has done, we'll live with consequences as one, even if it means I have to spend every waking moment for the rest of my life putting her back together again. It's what I owe her after what she's given me: _freedom to fight_.

I click to a higher magnification. I can now see his face, worn and weathered; it's pale appearance completely out of place here in the tropical sun. That is his mistake: he has failed to adapt. This place is no different to him than his labs in the Capitol or his factory in District 2. He hasn't learned what it can offer him besides the artificial terrors he himself has built here. Therefore, he hasn't learned what it can offer his enemies: _or what it has offered me…_

_ "Time for a quick lesson on arrogance, Ohm."_

I reach down and click my radio to transmit.

"Evening, Rikard." I say trying to mask all fear and doubt from my voice. He has to understand that I am in control now. He jumps in surprise on the balcony, as if he never expected to hear my voice speaking directly to him again. He says something to the bodyguard next to him, who begins yelling something into a radio that I can't hear. Ohm then picks up his personal radio to answer back.

"Good Evening to you, Ares. I suppose we're on a first name basis now?"

"Well, with everything we've been through together, now it seems appropriate."

"Very well, so it seems you're still alive. Pity, I was hoping my little bombardment would have taken care of you once and for all. I was just about to order my men to start scouring the forest for what pieces were left of your corpse. Something for your wife to look at during her surgical transformation in a few hours."

"Surely, you think more of me than that, Rikard?

"Well, considering how stupid it is of you to go through all that trouble to deactivate your tracelet only to start broadcasting on an open radio frequency. You must realize that I'll be able to locate you in just a few short seconds from now?"

"Go ahead. As you once told me back in the Capitol, _'You may not like what you find.'_"

"Don't try to intimidate me, Snow…"

"_Ares,_ Rikard please. We're friends now, remember?"

"Very well, _Ares_, don't try to intimidate me. I've strung a fool-proof sensor net out around my fortress for three hundred meters. I know the location of every buzzing fly that's stupid enough to beat its wings as it gets too close to me. Don't be so stupid to assume that I wouldn't know when you're coming."

"A sensor-net, yes. Fool-proof, I wouldn't be so sure. You might want to hire another camouflage advisor for when you build your next fortress of doom."

"There's no way you could have spotted the sensor spheres…"

"You're right, because they're sensor cubes and they're hidden the trees. In fact, I think they're the same ones you showed me at Special Defense about a year ago. Seriously, why do you insist on making everything in that particular shape? I'd consult Lizzy to see if there's some psychological explanation for that…."

I see him mouth the word _"dammit"_ but he keeps his voice on the radio calm.

"Speaking of Mrs. Snow, Ares, you might want to refrain from your pathetic attempts at taunting before I decide to have another corrective session broadcast to this entire island…"

"You won't hurt her again, Rikard."

"And why exactly are you so sure of that?"

"Because, she's the only thing keeping you alive right now."

"Excuse me?"

"Touch one more hair on her head, and I'll punish you for it. Kill her, and I won't stop. I will hunt you down to the ends of the Earth and ensure that the last thing the terrified look on your face sees is me pointing the knife to your throat…."

Ohm begins to laugh.

"Well, My Dear Ares, it seems you have indeed lost your mind! Tracelet or not, I'm still here in an impregnable fortress and you are still trapped on a hostile deserted island where the only hope of escape is through me."

"You really underestimate me, Rikard."

"Why do you say that?"

I click the safety off on my weapon, pull the rifle tight into my shoulder, squeeze the trigger, and send a round flying straight towards Ohm on the balcony. As his bodyguard's head explodes next to him into million pieces and spatters him with brains, Ohm literally dives for cover back into his mountain refuge. After a few silent seconds, I finally receive a verbal answer.

"That was a very impressive shot, Ares!" he exasperatingly screams into his radio.

"Not really, Rikard, I was aiming for you. This new ammo of your design is shit for accuracy out past 300 meters. I'm afraid that after extensive testing, the United Districts of Panem Defense Forces will have to decline on our order…"

"How _dare_ you…"

"How dare I? It seems you're forgetting which one of us decided to start the Seventy-Sixth Hunger Games, but what you failed to realize with all your so-called intelligence is which one of us is going to_ finish_ them…"

"You arrogant fool! And just what makes you think that you can possibly defeat me?"

"Because, since you've been so blinded by hate, you don't realize that I have the greatest weapon of all on my side."

"And what is that? Knives, guns, blind obedience to your pathetically impotent new order?"

"Not all, Rikard. _Love_…"

"How incredibly naïve! Soon, you will realize just what a liability love can be…just as I did. Don't you think for one second that I wouldn't end her pathetic existence right now if it suited me!"

"Uh, uh, uh, remember what I just said about me punishing you…"

"You're a dead man, Snow!"

"You have to catch me first, Rikard," I say as I slip on my night vision glasses and prepare to escape back to the jungle.

"I intend to. Since you are obviously so close, Ares, why don't you take a look at what's coming your way?"

The front gates fly open and a truck loaded with more hunters screams onto the road. It drives wildly toward my sniper position. They are all distracted, loading their weapons and yelling orders at one other, completely unaware that each and every one of them has about ten seconds to live.

Normally, I would be more concerned about having to face a force so large by myself, but luckily I left a little a surprise just outside Ohm's sensor net. When I noticed what kind of truck that Ohm's forces were using, I decided to make use of one of my precious two grenades. That particular model of vehicle has a very vulnerable spot in its armor. Though it's very well protected from side attacks, there is a weak spot just underneath the primary fuel tank.

As the truck drives around a bend in the road, it clips a wire that I have strung between two trees, detonating the grenade buried in the road. Burning hot shrapnel rips through the undercarriage directly into the main tank which then explodes in a brilliant fire ball. The driver is killed instantly, but the poor hunters in the back dive from the wreckage and run in screaming circle so that Ohm can hear every one of their tortured last gasps of life. Their flaming bodies have become human torches, lighting the newly fallen darkness of the jungle night.

"See that, Rikard? It seems I have a few 'presents' of my own now. Good luck, for it seems that the odds are indeed in _my_ favor." I click off the transmit button.

Suddenly, the holoimage of Lizzy returns to the night sky. The water has now reached the bottom of her chest. She is conscious again, but becoming more and more nervous as she flails in the tube. All I can do is grit my teeth and run back into the forest, using the glasses to guide my path as the light from the burning truck fades behind me. Soon, I'm alone again the forest, disappearing like a ghost. I've done what I've needed to do for now. Next, comes the hardest part. Waiting for _them_ to make a mistake.

Ohm's voice returns from the trees.

"Look at her, Colonel Snow!"

_"Guess he doesn't believe that we're still friends…"_

"Look into her terrified eyes as your mermaid gasps for the few final hours of her life! You claim to love her? You claim that she is the one who drives you forward? Well then, her image will not fade from the sky until this is all over. Only seven hours left! Seven hours and then you watch her die! You've done nothing tonight except prove me right! You are an animal, an unholy killer! Justice will be served tonight! I swear it!"

I can't tell if he's just trying to encourage his men to continue to press their futile offensive, or just bolster his own shattered ego. Either way, I'll let Ohm continue his pointless rant. After all, he's the one covered in blood this time.

He's lost this one and he knows it. It is crystal clear that the jungle is now mine. His hunters realize that _they_ are now the prey and will be afraid to leave the compound, which I've made sure to show them is no longer a safe haven either. Instead of trying to track me down, they will now be busy with fortifying their positions and lying in wait for my next attack. They think I will come to them, and they are right. What they fail to realize is that no defense ever created is perfect. I will find a way in, and strike right at their hearts.

My first victory has achieved exactly what it was supposed to. _Fear. _Ohm knows he's lost the offensive to me, and I will never let him reclaim it.


	20. Chapter 20

I fly back in the direction of the cave, but before I reach its safety, Ohm strikes another blow. From over the eastern coast, comes the unmistakable loud roar of hovercraft engines. I run to a tree and climb, hoping to get some view of the approaching threat. I climb up till I break the very bottom of the canopy and gaze out into the night. Normally they would be invisible, but with the glasses I can see them as clear as day. A line of five hovercraft, each spaced about half a mile apart, flying slowly abreast and approaching the shore line.

At first, I wonder what they could possibly be doing. Are they preparing for a bombing run or some kind of strafe attack? No, they're moving way too slowly. Their purpose has to be something far more deliberate. It's almost like they're…like they're trying to flush something back towards the center of the island. _Of course,_ they're the beaters, and I'm the quail.

_"Very good, Rikard, but what exactly do you think will scare me straight back towards you?" _

I don't have to wait long for an answer. As the hovercraft just cross the cliff, I see a pair of canisters drop from underneath each of their winglets and gently fall to the ground. A series of quiet pops precedes a billowing cloud that erupts from each of the canisters. I am very thankful for my glasses at this point because they've probably saved my life. Otherwise, in the darkness I wouldn't have been able to tell the color of that cloud…_ice blue._

As soon as my eyes comprehend what I am seeing, I drop from the tree and begin to sprint as hard as I can back toward the compound. It isn't long before the roar of the hovercraft a few miles away is overshadowed by another horrifying sound…_screaming, _but it is not the screaming of human beings. It is the screaming of Mother Nature herself as thousands of birds, monkeys, and other creatures all succumb to the deadly cloud that is creeping back towards me. I can actually hear the study thumping as their lifeless corpses fall from the treetops to the ground in an approaching rhythm of death…

To better understand the magnitude of current events, one must have a little history lesson first. Despite its absolute victory in the first war of the Dark Days, the Capitol was not satisfied in merely re-subordinating the Districts under their Will. So, the Council of 10, then led by Nero Snow, my esteemed great-grandfather, developed a three-pronged strategy to ensure that the Districts would never rise again. Thankfully, we know today that the strategy was doomed to failure, but at the time it seemed like an absolute stroke of genius. The first prong was starvation: limit the Districts' access to food in order to ensure their continued weakness and reliance on the central authority for survival. People cannot organize to rebel if they are concerned only with their personal well-being. The second prong was competition: make the Districts fight each other so that they would be less willing to cooperate on a grander scale. This little piece resulted in the Hunger Games. Each District would watch enemies from another District slaughter their children without mercy. The winning District would then feast for a whole year at the price of the all the others' suffering…diabolically brilliant. Finally, the third prong: _annihilation_. If the Capitol had the ability to wipe any enemy off the map without so much as batting an eyelash, that enemy would be far less inclined to start problems.

Now, it was that third prong that actually proved to be the most challenging, for you see weapons of mass-destruction are a double edged sword. Obviously, they must be destructive enough to cause death and devastation on a large scale, but at the same time, they must not be so destructive so that they render their target so toxic that the target will be useless for generations to come. Even though the first two prongs were implemented almost immediately, the third prong remained elusive for almost forty years, until it was cracked by a young, unknown scientist for District 3 named Rikard Ohm.

Officially, it was known as _Nerve Agent, BX-CD950_ but due to its ice blue physical appearance, and the fact that its victims spent the last ten seconds of their excruciatingly painful lives seizing and shaking, it became known by its more popular nickname of _"Shiver."_

Any physical contact with even a micro-gram of Shiver anywhere on the victim's skin creates a cascading nervous reaction that it incurable. No antidote of any effectiveness in known to exist, this was done on purpose. Shiver also has another very unique characteristic. It begins to break down into its component substances as soon as it is exposed to oxygen. Therefore, less than an hour after you wipe out an entire population, your soldiers can march into the area with no protective gear whatsoever and take back what belonged to the Capitol without firing a shot.

So, you're probably asking yourself why when the Capitol was in possession of such a perfect anti-insurrection weapon would they choose not to use it even when fighting for their own lives? Well, that is because Shiver was only tested on a human being once, and the result was so horrifying that the entire Council of 10 signed a written document forever banning its production as a crime so heinous that it was even against their own twisted view of humanity.

For decades, the tape of that experiment was sealed deep within the Peacekeeper archives until it was discovered after Snow's death. Of course, it was required viewing for me and the rest of the Sixteen. I still have nightmares about her face, the girl only known as _Subject E. _The tape was brief as the narrator described her background, a blonde fifteen-year old Avox sentenced to death for striking her master. Dressed in only a white-hospital gown, two Peacekeepers led her onscreen and into a clear glass room with a metal chair bolted to the center of it. The Peacekeepers strap her in tightly before two white-coated scientists do a final check of her vital signs, scribble some notes on their charts, and then seal the chamber. The camera then focuses on the girl's face. It is obvious that she knows her death is imminent…I always prayed that she never had any idea of what was about to happen.

Ohm enters next leading the entire Council of 10 to a railing overlooking the room. There is no audio, but it is obvious they are all laughing and joking as if it is some kind of glorious day, like they are about to become one step closer to becoming absolute masters of humanity. My grandfather is a young man, only recently having assumed power of President of Panem. Ohm is also so young and so different than he is now. His well-groomed hair is pulled behind his head neatly and as he proudly addresses the Council with his real voice that I, ironically, cannot hear on the tape. I know that he feels that he is about to be rewarded for his genius.

Ohm gives the signal. One of the scientists turns a valve. The Avox hears a spray enter the room and she looks up straining against her bonds. For a brief moment, there is almost relief in her eyes as she thinks she will finally have release from her punishment, but then…

Her entire body convulses in one vicious motion against her leather manacles as if a lightning bolt has passed clear through her. She begins to shake uncontrollably as the seizures take charge. She begins violently banging her head against the metal chair and blood starts to soak through her blonde hair as she bashes her own brains out. Her head thrashes one way and her torso thrashes the other, snapping her own neck. A strange, viscous white foam begins oozing from her mouth. The seizing continues, but it is obvious she is gone. Ohm is yelling something at the other scientists, but it is too late. All they can do is watch the thrashing slowly come to a stop. However, the girl's face is frozen in the most horrifying gaze imaginable, as if she is staring straight into your heart, forever judging you with motionless eyes.

Gaius Bunton is the first to vomit, but he is not the last. One by one, the rest of the Council all become sick and run screaming from the room until finally only Rikard Ohm is left. After yelling one more silent phrase to the other scientists, he slowly approaches the gas chamber, places his hands on the glass, and then can be seen to mouth a single sentence to the girl's corpse, still restrained in the chair:

"_I'm sorry…" _It was that one silent phrase that has given me faith in Ohm's humanity until the Sixteen started disappearing. That he was somehow never the monster. That he was just a man in horrible circumstances who finally realized the sheer magnitude of his crimes and finally took a stand against the real monsters only to pay the ultimate price.

Now, that entire view is shattered. I wonder if Ohm even remembers _Subject E_ from over forty years ago. The girl, a fellow Avox that he might have helped liberate from silence decades later if she had not been chosen for that gruesome experiment. An experiment that I could not help but notice has been erased from all modern histories of Rikard Ohm as it appears to conflict too much with his heroic image that is the official story passed to the public these days.

All I know is that now I am trapped on his island, running like a wild beast away from a cloud of gas that if I even come near, I will suffer the same fate as _Subject E_ only on one hundred times the scale. I cannot help but grimace as I realize that Ohm has finally destroyed himself, once and for all. It will never be possible for him to ever redeem himself because in an effort to get his revenge on his most hated enemies, he has now resorted to a weapon that even they in their sadistic musings even felt was too cruel.

I still run as fast as I can. The humming of the hovercraft is almost completely gone now. They probably don't want to risk the clouds of Shiver getting too close to the compound. Ohm knows there is no cure. Not that he has ever shown any sympathy for those working under him, but no narcissist wants to risk his own life for any cause. I'm less than a mile from the compound's walls now. I begin to slow because I know that if the hovercraft were the beaters, and I am the quail, that means the hunters must be close. I approach a small rise in the ground when suddenly several searchlights pierce the darkness. I hear hunter's voices screaming.

"He's got to be close! The gas should be forcing him in this direction."

"Hey, be sure to watch your position, if we stray too far east, we'll head straight into the Shiver."

"To hell, with that!"

"No shit!"

"Hey, get on the radio and tell _Tracks_ to move the hell up here, we need his support."

"_Tracks? That's an army call sign,"_ I think to myself. One I haven't heart since my early days in the mechanized corps. But that's not possible, surely Ohm couldn't have a…..

I hear the revving of a turbine-engine and the harsh grinding of metal on metal. I drop to the ground which begins to shake with the oncoming force of a behemoth. I run around to the corner of the rise, crawl to the top, and peer over the edge.

I see a squad of eight hunters, all armed with rifles, grenades, and hand-held spotlights walking along the one-lane dirt road. One of them is speaking into a radio. Suddenly, from around a bend, what I feared couldn't be true comes lumbering. A powerful searchlight mounted underneath the main gun scans hungrily for victims in the trees. Machine guns bristle from the turret all waiting to unleash an onslaught of fiery lead. The shaking of the ground grows more violent as the unstoppable sixty-ton steel beast approaches. It continues to scan the jungle until its bright searchlight freezes directly on me. The squad of hunters begins to yell as they see my silhouetted outline in the darkness. Yes, apparently I was a wrong. Ohm has a tank, and its gun is pointed directly at me.


	21. Chapter 21

I feel the hypersonic shockwave of the round as it flies over my head before I feel the muzzle blast of the canon itself. The concussion blows me backward down the rise right before the shell explodes against a tree twenty yards behind me.

As I lay there, knocked completely senseless, a terrible sound reaches my ringing ears.

_"CRACK, CRACK, CRUNCH," _The shell blew clear through an ancient jungle tree nearly ten feet thick and the trunk begins to fall straight on top of me with a sickening roar. Instinctively, I roll to the left just in time to avoid being crushed by the tree's massive limbs.

_"Get up! Get up, Snow!"_ I keep yelling to myself, but it's no use. The shock has left me in too much of a daze. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the feeling returns back to my limbs. I manage to start climbing to my feet only to see a hunter standing at the crest of the rise, his assault rifle pointed directly at my head.

_"So this is how it ends…"_ I think as I see him move his finger to the trigger with a sadistic smile. A loud burst of heavy machine gun fire rips over the top of the rise, slicing the hunter in half. I hear the roar of the tank engine as it begins to maneuver toward me on the other side of the hill. _"Note to self: Do not get in front of that turret because those tankers don't give a damn what gets in their way…"_

I am on my feet again, running around the far side of the hill trying to get back into cover. I hear the shouts of the surviving hunters over the roar of the engine and the grinding of the tracks.

"WHAT THE HELL!" One of them screams.

"It was his own damn fault! Don't get too cocky and cross into their line of fire. They don't see very well in that thing."

Maybe I can use that. Make them _fight your fight_. I suddenly peel to the right and dive over the top of the rise, firing my assault rifle at the hunters as I sprint across the road fifty feet in front of them. One of the survivors is hit and falls to the ground dead. Before the other hunters return fire, the tank's turret swings toward my direction and they scatter like leaves hoping to avoid a repeat of their friend's death.

_"Six dismounts left."_ I hit the ground and lay as flat as I can as the anticipated main gun round flies blindly in my general direction. The shell screams fifty feet past my right and flies deep into the forest, exploding harmlessly to my rear. I hear the pinging sound of the empty shell casing as it is ejected from the rear of the tank's turret and smashes into the ground. I remember that it takes about five seconds for that tank model's autoloader to ram another round in the main gun's breach and ready it to fire. That's five seconds that I have to make something else happen.

I dive forward out of the trees and open fire on the dismounts until my magazine is empty. Another three victims fall in my impromptu ambush before I am forced to withdraw back into the trees. As I draw another magazine from my chest rig and slam it into my rifle I think,

_"Three more down, three left to go…"_

I hear the hunters starting to panic. The tank is still scanning wildly with its turret trying to acquire me. The crew begins to drive the beast forward. The Hunters dive for the edge of the roadway.

"He's moving to damn fast!"

"Where is he?"

"Get _Tracks_ outta here! He's only gonna get us killed."

The tank crew also seems to be growing impatient with me. The turret swings all the way to its side and begins raking the tree line with automatic fire. I crawl low, parallel to the road hoping to get a jump on the remaining three hunters who are too afraid to come after me considering what they've seen the tank just do to their friend. The ground underneath my chest rumbles as the tank's massive treads rip at the earth. The turret continues to fire its machine guns wildly into the jungle, hoping that somehow I will be hit. I guess they don't know me very well…

I crawl back to the edge of the roadway and look to my left. The three remaining hunters are huddled in a ditch, screaming in terror as the automatic fire slices through the air less than ten feet above their heads. The noise is absolutely deafening. All they can hear is the roar of the tank and the terror of their cries. _Perfect._

I quickly raise my rifle and fire right at the paralyzed hunters. All of them are dead before they know what happened. The tank continues to fire without stopping, seemingly unaware of the loss of all the dismounts.

_"Well, Ohm, should have spent just a little more and gotten an experienced tank crew…Alright, Tracks, it's just you and me…"_

There's no time to think about my own mortality. Hesitation means certain death. There are only two ways that I know of to take out a tank from the ground. Disable it at the tracks, or go for the crew. Even if I had the right amount of explosives, I don't want to destroy this prize. I plan to take it whole.

I leap to my feet and fly back across the road. _Tracks _knows something is up now and ceases its fire, spinning the turret back center and continuing to scan for its target. Before the turret can get its sights to my location, I run up the rise, spin around and take a soaring leap. I fly through the air and land precisely where I want, directly on top of the turret.

The crew inside can hear me land on top of their steel sanctuary. The gunner begins to spin the turret wildly back and forth. _Tracks_ has become a wild bull, trying to buck an unwelcome rider of its back. The driver slams on the gas, accelerating forward as fast he can. I fall to my knees but am able to grab hold of an antenna mount before I slide off the edge to be crushed by the steel treads below. I hear the hatch at the top of the turret open. The crewman inside sticks an assault rifle out the top and begins firing blindly along the sides of the vehicle, hoping to hit me with a lucky shot. I roll back and forth as bullets ricochet off the steel armor around me.

As I hear his weapon go dry with a loud "click" I raise up my own rifle and fire a burst directly into his arm which explodes into red mist. A loud scream echoes from inside the tank as his weapon drops to the ground speeding past below.

My free hand finds the last grenade on my belt and rips it free.

_"Happy Reaping Day, Mother Fuc…"_ I let the grenade fly. It gently bounces on the edge of the hatch twice like a ball on a hoop before softly dropping inside the tank.

"_BOOM!"_ The thunderous explosion inside the turret nearly knocks me to ground underneath the rolling tracks, but I hold firm.

I wait for the crew to come diving out the hatch, but _Tracks _simply rolls to an easy stop along the black road. Slowly, I climb back up onto the turret, raise my rifle to my cheek, and walk to the edge of the hatch. I can't see anything through the billowing smoke belching from inside the scorched interior.

A few deep breaths and then I jump inside. I look around and find the crew, all slumped over motionlessly at their stations…_dead_. I check the rest of the tank. Besides a few cracked screens and some superficial damage, everything inside the vehicle seems alright. One by one, I release the crew from their harnesses, haul their limp bodies out the top hatch, and dump them over the side. This is my vehicle now.

The armored weapons cases strapped to the outside of _Tracks_ prove to be a treasure trove of new resources: spare magazines, rocket launchers, ammunition, explosives, flares, additional grenades, even food and water. I'm not worried about the Shiver anymore, by the time the clouds reach here, they'll have long since broken down into harmless vapor from exposure to the air. I'm also not concerned about more hunters coming in my direction, considering I'm wrapped up in 60 tons of protection. Plus, I'm not as incompetent behind these controls as Ohm's tankers were…

My strength is fading after going non-stop since this morning, so I take my time and have my first meal in almost twenty-four hours. It's only field rations, but it feels like I'm preparing a feast. I pull out a foil packet of beans and franks and place it on the engine exhaust to warm up. As I sit in the turret hatch, waiting for my hot meal, I look back up at the sky to the holoimage of Lizzy, still trapped the aquarium. Part of me feels guilty, taking this little break while she still is faced with the rising water, but I know I'll be no good to her if I just let myself go to collapse. I need this time to plan anyway.

"Just hold on baby," I whisper towards the sky. "I'll be there soon." I reach down into the ration packet and pull out a piece of milk chocolate, Lizzy's favorite. "Don't worry," I say holding the candy towards the sky as if she could see it. "I'm saving this for you."

After retrieving my now smoking hot beans and franks, I tear open the packet, take a big spoonful, and shovel it into my mouth.

"_Obviously, Ohm isn't a culinary genius as well…" _

The taste isn't stellar, but I don't really care. It's edible and it's hot. I sit for a minute or so, chowing down on my meal, when the epiphany strikes. I should have known that this is what it would take.For some reason, my best plans are always made when I have food in my stomach.

I know exactly how I'll get into the compound: _right through the front door._ With over 1000 horse power of armor at my disposal, I definitely have momentum to work with. Now, it's just about the details. I grin from ear to ear as I realize what Ohm's state of mind must be as he hears the status report of his latest blunder. If he was afraid before, he must be terrified now because _I _am the one with the tank.


	22. Chapter 22

I lie awake in my bunk in the empty barracks. I have been the only resident of the "R & R" center for almost a year since Juno left last fall. The first rays of light begin to stream in from the outside, bringing some color the dreary gray interior. I realize that I haven't slept a single second the entire night. The anticipation was just too much. It is dawn on the day I have been waiting for my entire life: my birthday…my _seventeenth_ birthday. There is a knock on the door which shocks me from my contemplative state. No mentor has ever taken that courtesy with me before. After all, until today I have been a suspect to be kept under lock and key: a possible threat to the security of the nation. I guess this is a sign of things to come.

"Come in," I say with a new found sense of confidence. The door opens to reveal the tall, burly form of Bruno Callus, my Head Mentor. He has always been very harsh, especially to me, but I know he is a fair man. He doesn't punish unless it is well deserved. I snap to my feet out of respect…and a little fear, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he is not here to terrorize me this time.

"Relax, Ares. Sit down, please," he says with a quiet respect. This causes me to almost literally gasp. He has never, not once in the fifteen years he has been my Head Mentor, ever referred to me by my first name.

Over time, I pieced together Head Mentor Callus' story from the pieces of personal information he has let slip during his instruction. He was an orphan from District 8. His father died when he was just a young child from what the locals call "string lung." After years of breathing fabric fibers in the mills, a massive infection set in and took his life in just a few days. His mother died soon after from starvation, giving every meager food ration she had to support her two young boys. Suddenly finding himself as head of the family at age eight, he took his three year old brother to the streets before the District authorities came to put them in a worker's orphanage. Even that young, he realized that it was better to scrounge in the garbage than be forced to spend 14 hours a day weaving textiles for barely enough food to sustain life.

And so they lived for over eleven years, his beloved younger brother and him, taking whatever odd jobs they could find. When the Revolution started, both of them were some of the first to volunteer for the rebels. After the initial Capitol offensive to retake 8, his brother was killed in an airstrike. Head Mentor Callus was devastated, finally losing his only remaining family not to deprivation, but to violence. Driven forward by a desire for vengeance, he quickly climbed high in the enlisted ranks thanks to his street smarts and near suicidal courage. When the opportunity arose to join a program to "rehabilitate" the children of the former elite, he volunteered hoping for a chance to finally avenge his brother's death. However, after years of seeing hidden specks of kindness and decency peak out from under his angry exterior, I secretly believe that once he saw the scared Sixteen children standing in front of him, he couldn't put the image of his starving three-year old brother out of his mind. He then decided to "rehabilitate" us the only way he knew how: by making us strong.

I sit down carefully on my bunk, still wondering if this is some kind of ploy to really test my loyalty, but he carefully pulls a chair over and sits down directly in front of me, leaning over like a father about to give his son a treasured piece of wisdom.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Never of anything more in my life, Head Mentor."

"None of the others have ever taken the path upon which you are about to embark. You will be the only one who will be able to guide you."

"I know."

"This isn't a free ride out, you know? More will be expected from you than ever before. You must become the best, the most honorable, the most tactically expert. People will look at you and see only your name. _You_ must prove to them that you are something more."

"I understand, Head Mentor."

"Nothing against you, but I don't think you quite do yet. That's alright. You will learn as you are forced to learn. The training that you will receive will give you access to the most advanced weaponry the UDP has to offer: hovercraft, guns, bombs, missiles…but in the end they're all worthless if you don't understand one simple fact."

"What is that, Head Mentor?"

"_You _must become the weapon, Ares, through hard work, discipline, study, but above all _honor_. Never, not for one second give that up, or else you'll just be continuing on the legacy that you have worked so hard to erase."

"Yes, Head Mentor."

"Alright," he says climbing to his feet. "Get ready and meet me in front hall in one hour."

It only takes me twenty minutes to shave, brush my teeth, shower, and throw on my drab blue jumpsuit that has marked me as one of the Sixteen since my arrival here all those years ago. I slowly walk to the front hall and realize that I have half an hour alone with my thoughts. Head Mentor Callus' words roll like a wave over and over again through my mind. This man, this victim of my name has faith that I can become something better than my past. If he can forgive me, then maybe, just maybe, the rest of Panem can one day forgive me as well.

The double doors that lead to the auditorium fly open causing me to jump. It is Head Mentor Callus.

"They're ready. Come with me," is all he says. It is all he has to say. Slowly, I follow him inside. I look up the stage. The nine other mentors are all lined up, in full dress uniform, all their insignia bright and polished. In front of them is a face that I recognize only from watching the news. It is Driva Holmes, the newly elected President of the United Districts of Panem.

Head Mentor Callus leads me up to the stage before taking his place directly behind the President. She points to a spot in front of her and I march to it as boldly as I can without looking brash. I stand at rigid attention as she stares me down.

"I will ask one last time, is this your final decision?"

"Yes, Madam President!"

"Do you understand that once you take this oath, that it is binding and for life? If you violate it, you will be labeled as a traitor and punished according to the laws of this nation?"

"Yes, Madam President!"

"Very well, raise your right hand and repeat after me:"

_I, Ares Snow, having been appointed an officer in the Defense Forces of the United Districts of Panem, do solemnly swear to uphold and defend the Constitution of this Nation against all enemies. That I will dedicate my life to serving my fellow countrymen and women in honor and fidelity, and that if asked, I will willingly lay down my life to defend their rights, safety, and freedom with Fate as my judge._

I repeat every word with pride. Before I realize it, it is over. She holds out her hand.

"Congratulations." I mindlessly reach out and shake it. There it is. I am no longer an enemy of the state. Now, I am its guardian.

One by one, all the mentors come forward, shake my hand, and give me their words of encouragement, but only one man's really counts to me right now. Head Mentor Callus is the last to come up. He offers a sharp salute, which I humbly return.

"Congratulations, _Sir_," he says grabbing my hand. "Remember my advice."

_Tonight, I do._

The full moon brightly shines down on the island, illuminating everything in ghostly pale white. Guards pace nervously along the compound walls, staring out into the black jungle with their night vision glasses. Every flutter of birds' wings or cry of an animal in the blackness draws their worried attention. They nervously grip their rifles in hands that sweat through their gloves. The two corner watch towers blast their powerful searchlights through the trees scanning back and forth, but see nothing. Ohm doesn't dare step foot on the balcony overlooking the courtyard again. He won't risk a second encounter with one of my bullets.

In his place, stand another twenty armed hunters. I can only assume he has barricaded himself in the control room, standing guard next to my wife as the last few inches of air are pushed from the tube by the rising water. It is not enough to simply use his own men as human shields, but now he needs her for protection as well.

Nothing has been left to chance anymore. Extra ammunition has been issued. Shoulder launched anti-armor rockets have been assigned to everyone. All available hands have been put on watch, but even in their impregnable fortress that rests behind the three feet of reinforced concrete wall buried into the side of solid volcanic rock, no one feels safe. They all know that the final battle of this day is close at hand, but after seeing the fate of their comrades, they just don't know if they'll survive it.

Suddenly, one guard above the gate hears a distant roar from deep within the jungle. He looks forward, scanning the darkness with his night-vision glasses. He doesn't see anything at first and wonders if it's his mind playing tricks on him. No, it can't be in his head. The roar is definitely out there…and it is coming closer.

He clicks on his radio and yells into his headset. The guards and hunters spring into action. They all bring their weapons to the ready as the towers point their lights directly down the road. The roar grows louder and louder until the sound of grinding tracks joins in. The tank is coming…straight at them. The shouting begins. Orders are thrown in a hundred different directions. Finally someone takes control of the chaos and organizes the defense. They form a firing line at the front wall, anti-armor rockets armed and waiting.

Out of the darkness, _Tracks_ appears. The order is given to wait until Snow is in range. The shots must count. They wait for the inevitable firing of the tank's main gun, but it does not come. This confuses them at first. Maybe the firing controls were destroyed when he took over _Tracks_. Maybe he just doesn't know how to work them by himself. It doesn't matter. He is speeding now, building up a huge head of steam and barreling straight for the compound.

"Fire!" Ten rockets launch simultaneously, barreling straight toward the tank, but they miss. He is coming in too fast, _impossibly_ fast…and getting faster! "Reload, Reload!" The machine guns open up now, but their rounds bounce harmlessly off the tank's thick steel skin. More rockets, a few hit and cause some minor damage, but the tank is still coming. It will not stop.

"_How is he not slowing down?"_ The guards begin to ask in their minds. _"There is no way Snow can keep it under control and still stop unless…He's going to ram the gate!"_ The flash of realization hits them all at the same moment, but it is too late for most. _Tracks _continues at break-neck speed straight toward the front gate of the compound until finally…

"_CRASH!"_ Tracks slams into the heavy steel gate without slowing. The steel gives way under the punishing momentum of the behemoth. The gates fly off their hinges and into the middle of the courtyard, taking a good section of the front concrete wall with it. Helpless guards fly through the air only to be crushed by falling debris or the impact of their fall.

_Tracks_ as well is now mortally wounded. The front end is pulverized by the impact and smoke starts pouring from the engine. It slides straight forward another hundred feet, doing incredible damage as it destroys vehicles, crushes shipping containers, and sends fuel and ammunition flying until…

"_BOOM!" _The fuel and ammunition explode into a brilliant fireball that shoots five hundred feet into the air. The remaining survivors dive for cover, but quickly climb back up when they realize that the tank has come to a halt almost directly into the center of the courtyard, completely immobilized.

Ohm's last forces open fire immediately, pulverizing the tank with an unending hail of bullets, machine gun fire, and rockets until _Tracks _finally explodes into a second fireball that briefly illuminates the island war zone. The survivors stare on in disbelief.

"_It couldn't have been that easy, but it was…I guess he just finally couldn't take it anymore and made one last suicidal charge for victory. However, we made it. We survived and won…"_

It is not difficult to rig the throttle on a tank to accelerate. What's a lot harder is figuring out a way to keep it driving straight forward. Luckily, the last stretch of road before the compound was idiotically straight. A few minor adjustments to the springs on the steering yolk took care of that problem. Finally, all that was left was to set the computer on a countdown to engine start-up and then slip quietly into the jungle. _Tracks' _empty shell was enough to draw the attention of all Ohm's sensor nets directly to the road, allowing me to sneak up right to the wall. Next, the commotion and noise of the explosions gave me just enough time to scale the left guard tower and reach the top.

Tonight, _I am the weapon._

The guards are all still distracted by the burning mess down in the courtyard. The pair of tower machine gunners I find quickly fall as silent victims under my hunting knife as I slash their throats from behind. Without breaking my stride, I un-sling the rocket launcher from my back and take aim at the second tower. I pull the trigger and watch it explode into a million pieces. This sends the remaining guards into a panic. My hands find the charging handle of the machine gun and I go to work.

The hunters on the balcony are the first to fall. I slice them down in a single hail of bullets. Most land right where they stood, but an unlucky few fall screaming into the flames below. The last few wall guards are next. Some try to futilely return fire from below, but the ramparts of the tower harmlessly deflect their rounds before they too fall against my onslaught. The rest who try to run don't last long.

With my remaining rounds, I take aim at all the equipment that is left in the courtyard. I will leave nothing standing in this place. Everything is destroyed under my tidal wave of burning steel bullets. At last, the machine gun runs out of ammunition and abruptly sputters to halt, its barrels glowing bright red. The only sound left is the burning of the fires. The moonlight has been replaced by a bright orange glow.

There are no survivors out here. I have done my work. Slowly, I make my way down from the tower and into the courtyard. I walk slowly, purposefully. Ohm can see me coming, but I _want _him to see me coming. I want him to see the sight of his own death approaching like justice personified.

I'm about to walk inside his mountain fortress when his loud voice begins to echo from what's left of the wall.

"Welcome, _God of War!_"

"Rikard, I'm giving you one last chance to surrender…"

"Please, we both know that we're past that formality now. Only one of us will be breathing when the sun rises, My Dear Colonel."

"Fine, have it your way then…" Suddenly, I freeze as fifteen workers from inside the mountain come screaming outside in terror. I bring my rifle up, ready to fire, but they all run straight past me, through the flames, and out toward the shattered front wall.

"Run for your life! It's out, it's out!"

"We gotta get out of here!"

Whatever they're running from, they'd rather take their slim chances in the jungle than face whatever is in their fortress. Now, I start to feel fear creeping up inside me again. Ohm's voice returns.

"I never did show you my most prized possession, Colonel?" He says followed by a maniacal laugh. Just after I led the rebels to your grandfather's final hiding place, I found something on the floor of his green house. Surely, you remember the handkerchief he carried in his pocket to wipe the blood from his diseased mouth, don't you? Well, I've kept it all these years, and I'm happy to say that Snow's blood has finally found a good use…"

"Rikard, what have you done!" I scream at the top of my lungs. I don't have to wait long for an answer. Another technician comes screaming from the inside but doesn't make it far. He disappears in a rose-colored flash fast as lightning as a massive set of jaws flies from inside the mountain, grabs him and pulls him back inside. There are a few moments of dreadful silence, followed by a deafening rattle.

"There are many things I remember about old Coriolanus, My Dear Colonel, but two stand out in my mind the most. The first was his everlasting love of roses, and the second was his piercing _snake_-like eyes. I merely had to combine the two to make a brilliantly poetic living weapon. Your wife and….well, I guess I should say just _I _will enjoy watching you die."

I have never seen a muttation in real life…until tonight. The UDP banned them as being crimes against humanity. Now, I see why. From inside the mountain crawls a massive rattlesnake, over fifty feet long and at least three feet wide. It slithers toward me with a sickening sound and its scales are colored a hideous rose-pink. As it sees my face, the target that it was born to kill, it rears back and towers into the air. The snake's mouth opens wide to reveal its two- foot long fangs dripping with deadly poison. It lets out a long, violent hiss and its gigantic tail rattles with delight.

I instantly recognize the beast's eyes. I've seen them all my life in films, posters, pictures, on my old punching bag in the _Spym_…but most of all, in my nightmares. They are the eyes of my grandfather, President Coriolanus Snow.


	23. Chapter 23

"Combat is not a fair fight!" Head Mentor Callus screams at the top of his lungs. His words echo off the bare walls of the gymnasium and back into our ears. The ten of us that remain in the "R & R" Center are seated in a semi-circle surrounding a large mat laid out in the center of the floor. He stands in the middle of it, continuing his lecture. "If you think for one moment that the winner of a battle is determined solely on size and strength alone, you've already lost. Size _does not_ matter. If you know that you cannot compete with your opponent's physical power, than you must take the fight to the next level. You must _outthink_ him. You must _deceive_ him. If he thinks that you're going to go right, then go left. If he thinks that you're going to go up, then go down. Find his weakness and exploit it. That is the secret to victory. It goes to the person who is willing to find it rather than expect that it will just come on its own."

I am nine years old, still the youngest and smallest of the group. However, due to my particular pedigree, I always find myself volunteered to be Head Mentor Callus' sparring partner in hand-to-hand combat training. I think he likes to use me to make his points to the others…or just beat up on me. Sometimes, I can't tell.

"Snow, get up here!" I slowly rise to my feet and make way to the center of the mat. "Hurry up, I don't have all day." This is _definitely _not a fair fight. I stand toe to toe with him and barely come to his waist. He probably also has a good 150 pounds on me. The others giggle as they anticipate what will happen. "Shut up, all of you or you'll be next," he screams to silence them. "Alright, come at me, Snow." It doesn't escape my attention just how ridiculous this is. I ready myself for brutal pain as I charge forward, swinging my tiny fists. The only answer I receive is a blow directly to my face which sends me backwards into the ground. My eyes begin to tear and my nose starts to swell, but I climb back up and charge forward again.

This time I try to hold my skinny arms in front of my head and tuck my chin. It works for a few seconds, but eventually Head Mentor Callus punches my stomach. I crumple in a heap to the mat and pull my knees to the fetal position as he continues to rain blows down on me.

"Dammit, Snow! Did you not hear a single word I said?" he yells, ceasing his barrage. "If you try to fight a frontal assault on a superior enemy, you will get destroyed every time. It's not about luck or chance. Its gonna happen." He grabs my arm and pulls me back up to my feet. I am definitely crying now, and the others will make my life miserable for it later, but to his credit, Head Mentor Callus doesn't a say thing. He merely drops down to my eye level and speaks directly at my face, one on one. "Think Snow, what do you have that I don't? How can you use it against me?"

He gets back up and walks ten feet away from me. "When you have your answer, attack me again."

I think hard to myself, trying to block out the pain of my previous injuries.

_"He's big, really big. And I am small. How is he big? He's tall, so for him to hit me, he has to bend over. When people are bending over…they can't balance as well…"_ I have my answer.

"Ok, Head Mentor. I'm ready."

"Then come on." I charge straight forward as fast as I can, not giving any indication of trying to protect myself. He balls up his fist for a huge blow, but just as he swings down toward me, I drop down to the mat, slide across its smooth vinyl surface and go directly between his legs. He has leaned so far forward trying to strike at me that he has to steady himself. It is all the opportunity I need.

I spin around and kick as hard as I can to the back of his knees. His legs give out and he falls forward hard. I jump up and latch onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck and squeezing as hard as I can. However, just as I think I've won, he grabs my arm and flips me off his back to the mat so that I am staring directly into face. He pins me down with his massive left hand as he raises his right fist for a death blow. I wince expecting to be knocked out cold, but he slowly lowers his arm and extends his hand to help me up. I grab for it and find myself hoisted back onto my feet.

"Not bad, Snow," he says with an approving grin. "You're finally starting to think like a warrior."

Now, sixteen years later, as I stare up into the snake's hate-filled eyes, cringing at the sound of this beast's demon-like hiss, I once again find myself in an unfair fight.

"_Guess I need to start thinking like a warrior pretty fast…"_

I raise my rifle and fire a snap burst at the snake's head to see what effect Ohm's magic bullets have on muttation snakeskin. Unfortunately, the answer is not a lot. A few of the rounds pierce through, but the beast is so massive that he barely notices a few pin pricks. He shakes his rattle again and I realize all I have done is just make it angrier.

"Nice try. You better run, Colonel," Ohm's voice echoes from around the courtyard. "I don't think he likes you very much…" A split second after the words finish, I see the snake coil up and lunge forward with incredible speed directly at me. I roll hard to the left as the snake's fangs miss me by just a few inches. The snake recoils back around to prepare for a second strike, but I am already moving toward the flames.

It's very rare that a fun fact from seventh grade biology class saves your life, but today is one of those days. I remember that snake's eyes can only detect infrared energy…_heat_.

"_If I run around the burning debris in the courtyard, he won't be able to see me…"_

The snake shoots along the ground right on my tail, but as soon as I move around _Tracks'_ flaming hull, the beast slows to a stop and shakes its rattle angrily. It seems my memory is still good. The snake is confused as his eyes scan back and forth through the flames, searching for me. I continue to run in between burning piles of ammunition crates and fuel tanks before looking back at my adversary. For a few seconds, he considers his options, but soon he rears back up. I see his nostrils flare and then he begins to slither forward again.

"_Great, it looks like he can still smell me."_

The snake continues to creep forward in my direction, but his hesitation as he continues to sniff the air gives me just enough time to start to size him up.

"_Alright, Ares, what is this thing's weakness? Think! He's very large, but still extremely fast. I can stay around the flames for a little while, but eventually he'll get close enough to detect me with that nose of his and then I'll be his dinner anyway. Bullets aren't going to stop him, but what about an explosion?"_ I reach down to my belt. Luckily I remembered to grab more grenades off of _Tracks_. "_Good, but not good enough. He would just slither away before the grenade did any real damage. No, it would be almost like the explosion would have to be from the inside of him…"_ Suddenly, I have an idea. I just need to figure out one thing._ "I gotta get him still, if only for a few seconds. Now, how am I going to do that?"_ I look back towards the remains of the front concrete wall. The center of it is in ruins; the edges are intact but cracked. _"There it is."_

Suddenly, I know the snake's weakness. To him, I'm just a tiny, helpless rodent, and he's just a normal rattlesnake going after his prey. He doesn't know how big or powerful he is. How do you kill a rattlesnake? _You take its head clean off._ Why should I have thought this one would be any different? The muttation doesn't know that I can outsmart him, and I think that will be his downfall.

I run straight towards the crumbling wall. When I reach the barrier, I grab my rifle and bang it loudly against the concrete.

"Over here, you bastard!" I yell as loud as I can. The beast senses my vibrations. I see his eyes grow wide and his nostrils flare again. He begins rattling wildly as he thinks he has me cornered. He is a fearsome sight right now. The glowing flames reflect off his rosy scales and the massive slits in his eyes. I am so terrified that I begin to tremble, but I hold firm considering I only have one shot. He won't fall for this twice, and even if he did, Ohm would never let him repeat that mistake.

The beast slithers straight through the burning wreckage and takes his place directly in front of me.

"C'mon. I'm right here. Just do it," I spit at him. He rears up into the sky once more, readying himself for the death strike. I remember being nine years old, staring down Head Mentor Callus.

"_It's the same thing," _I repeat over and over again to myself. _"I just don't get to be lifted off the mat if I fail." _The snake strikes forward, jaws open wide. I see his fangs ready to impale me with their poison, but just before they find their target, I roll forward and to the left, passing directly underneath him. His head slams against the concrete with almost as much force as _Tracks. _A large piece of wall breaks free and falls directly on top of his face. The snake lurches backward reflexively, but he is stunned…just as I had hoped for. His jaw drops down loosely and he begins to move his head back and forth wildly trying to find where I disappeared to. Finally, his head spins around and he finds me behind him. He shows his fangs again, but his slowed reflexes give me just the right amount of time. I pull out a grenade and heave it directly into his open mouth. A split second later, the explosion slices through the muttation's neck and separates the head from the body.

The writhing mass of glistening rose scales continues to reflexively twitch and shake the rattle, but I look into the snake's eyes, _my grandfather's eyes_, and see them finally glaze over. Slowly, I come around behind the severed neck, stick my rifle into the bloody stump, and pull the trigger; blowing the snake's brains out through its face. I've done it. I've finally killed the last living bit of Coriolanus Snow.

The beast is gone, but there is no yelling or celebration. There is still work to be done. I walk toward the open doorway leading to the mountain. As I pass the body of a fallen hunter, I kneel down, check his belt and pull out an access card. There are no words of anger or fear from Ohm this time. His best chance at survival has failed. His army is destroyed. His fortress lies in ruins. It is just Lizzy, him, and me.

I walk into the mountain, scanning down the hallways. Soon, I begin to recognize the area where my cell was. I purposefully retrace my steps till I find myself face to face with the entrance to the control room. Ohm hasn't sealed it. He knows the showdown will be here and now. I swipe the card across the lock plate, the double doors slide open, and I step inside.


	24. Chapter 24

"Drop your weapons now!" Ohm screams from the control panel next to Lizzy's tube. Inside, she holds her head up, gasping at the last few breaths of air as the water is about to finally overtake her. I take a split second to scan for any hidden dangers. The room is empty, the hunters and guards all fell in the courtyard and the last technicians fled when Ohm released the muttation. It is just the three of us.

"I said drop your weapons!" Ohm holds his finger over a blue button on the control panel. "Do it now or I'll pump enough concentrated liquid Shiver into your mermaid's aquarium to melt her skin off. I know you've seen what it can do, Colonel." _Subject E's _gruesome final gaze passes through my brain. I immediately drop the magazine from my rifle, eject the round from the chamber, and throw the weapon to the ground. "Everything!"

I slowly unbuckle the rest of my gear and throw it away from me. I raise my hands to the air to show him that I am completely disarmed. Ohm is twitching, panic is laced through every word. "Good, good…" he mutters.

"So what now, Rikard?" I ask calmly. I know I'm running out of time. Lizzy probably has less than a minute of air left.

"Nothing has changed, My Dear Colonel," Ohm stammers through his sentence. "Nothing at all. You still have to make your choice. Watch her die before you run and try to kill me with your bare hands or kill yourself to save her. I'm perfectly all right with either option!" Clearly he's lost touch with reality.

"I think there's a third choice, Rikard. You calmly let Lizzy go and surrender. I will ensure that you receive a fair trial for your actions. I'll even testify on your behalf that they were the result of years of psychological trauma and that your service should be taken into account in your sentence."

"And spend the rest of my life in a detention center? Still a slave, just to a new government that claims it knows best! No, Ares. This ends _now_."

Lizzy pushes herself up to the top of the tube. As the water finally covers her face, she lets out one final plea. "Ares! I love you. _Get him!_ Get him, just don't forget me..." Then she is under. I know from experience that I just over a minute before she passes out.

A grin creeps across my face. This enrages Ohm.

"What exactly are you grinning about? Your love is dying. I've won!"

"She can hear us through the tube…"

"Of course she can!"

"And the plastic is thin enough so that I can hear her…"

"Stop speaking in riddles, Snow!" Ohm is screaming through his Reevox collar. I pause as I ready myself.

"That plastic isn't bullet-proof, _is it_?" Ohm's eyes grow wide as dinner plates as I make my move. It is the fastest I have ever drawn a pistol. I reach back behind my waist, pull the gun from my belt, and fire a round directly through Ohm's arm. His right bicep explodes, blowing his hand away from the control panel and knocking him backwards into the ground. I quickly fire two more shots straight through the tube, shattering it into a million pieces and sending a tidal wave of water pouring into the control room. Lizzy collapses onto the floor above me.

I go to my gear, draw the hunting knife, and walk up the steel steps. Lizzy lies in a soaking wet heap. I run over to see if she is alright. Immediately, I can smell her beautiful scent in the air and it feels like the weight of the entire planet has been pulled from my shoulders. She is unconscious, but breathing normally. I let myself steal one soft kiss to her cheek before I gently lay her down and go to finish my other unpleasant business.

Ohm lies just a few away, bleeding profusely from the useless stump of his right arm. He crawls along through the slime of bloody water in shock, but I grab his shoulder, throw him onto his back and hold my knife to his throat.

He looks up at me with his sky-blue eyes and grins, almost in delight.

"It seems I was wrong, My Dear Colonel, he chokes out. "I guess there was a third choice after all, but it doesn't involve my surrender…_Do it_" he challenges with gritted teeth.

"You're a monster!"

"Perhaps, but how appropriate for one monster to slay another. Claim your birthright, Snow."

"How can you say that after everything's that's happened? After everything you've done? You violated the trust of everyone around you. You built a private army that killed innocent people at will. Do you even remember what happened when you actually ordered the use of Shiver on another human being? Do you remember the Avox girl, _Subject E?_ Do you even remember telling her grotesque corpse, 'I'm sorry?' Yet you still used a weapon of death here that was too gruesome even for the Council of 10 to tolerate! And you still call me a monster?"

"Of course I do," he begins to shiver from shock and blood loss. "Because you yourself think that you're a monster. You've sold your soul to the UDP because you feel that if you don't selflessly serve every second of your life that you'll make them think you want to return yourself to power. Every time you walk out in public, you always ask yourself the question, 'Do they recognize something of their old tyrant in me?' probably because you recognize it in yourself. You even childishly rip the name off your uniform every time you walk outside not because you're afraid of what others will think, but because _you_ are afraid to face it!"

My entire body drops as I realize that he is correct.

"Yes, it all becomes clear now, Colonel…and to answer your previous inquiry, yes I remember the Avox girl. In fact, I knew _Subject E_ very well. She was my predecessor in personal service to old Coriolanus. It's just I'm surprised you don't know her, considering she was family…"

"What are you talking about?"

"So, I guess Old Snow was successful in keeping that little piece of information out of the Peacekeeper Archives. Yes, her name was Medea…_Medea Snow,_ or at least it was until Coriolanus had it taken away, along with her power of speech."

"You're lying!"

"You don't believe that it would be something he was capable of? She was his half-sister. His father Nero had her with his mistress after he became bored of his wife, Snow's mother. Rumor in the Council was that Medea was Nero's favorite to succeed him after his death. He thought that she was, "more intelligent" than his first-born legitimate son. After Nero died very suddenly under somewhat mysterious circumstances, it wasn't long before Medea found herself strapped to a surgeon's table. If I can say one thing for old Cory, it was that he always liked to act very quickly when threatened."

"If what you're saying is true, then why go through all the trouble of making her an Avox before gassing her to death? Why didn't he just kill her?"

"Because, Ares, she apparently had other talents to Snow's liking. Certainly, you've heard about his little, shall we say, _interesting_ sexual desires?" My hand begins to tremble around the knife handle as I feel the desire to throw up. The idea crosses my mind just to slit his throat now and end this horrible little lesson in my family's depraved history, but I stop myself. "One day, I guess little Medea grew tired of her brother trying to drunkenly fondle her and she slapped him across the face. Coriolanus then decided to teach her a lesson she would never forget..."

"Why are you telling me this!"

"I thought you wanted to know how I could use such horrible weapons, yet still call you the monster? The answer is simple: because Coriolanus ordered me to create it to kill his own sister…._his own family_. The images you saw were not a weapons test, they were an execution! Shiver's only intended victims have ever been named Snow. I figured I'd just complete the chain."

_"He's right: Medea, myself…and Lizzy."_

"You told me before you though I was a good man because I refused to create Snow's missile to save the lives of everyone in the country. Well, I hate to disappoint, but the real reason is far more selfish, My Dear Colonel. I knew that if Snow was willing to use horrible weapons such as those on his own family, then he wouldn't hesitate to use them on mine. How ironic then that I lost them as a result.

So, now that we've covered the bases, unless there are any other burning questions you would like answered, why don't we just skip the formalities and you finish what your grandfather started?" He is ready to die, and for a brief second, I am ready to oblige. But as I raise the knife, I remember everything: Head Mentor Callus, Venus, Lizzy, Annie, Katniss and Peeta, all of them flash through my mind at once and I slowly lower the knife."

"What are you waiting for? DO IT!"

"No, Rikard, because you're right, I have always been afraid of what lies inside of me. But thanks to your little Games, I think I have a better idea now. I am not Coriolanus Snow, or Venus Snow, or even Medea Snow…I am _Ares_ Snow!" I say throwing the knife away. Ohm grits his teeth in anger.

"No! You have to kill me!" The high pitched wine of his artificial voice screeches in my ears.

"I'm not going to kill you Rikard, but I will finish one thing that my grandfather started. I'm going to take your voice." My hand reaches down and rips the Reevox Collar from around his throat. Suddenly mute again, he offers no protest as I raise it up and strike him across the temple with its metal surface, knocking him out.

I stand to my feet, and walk back over to Lizzy. As carefully as if I was holding a newborn, I cradle her soaking wet body in my arms and try to think of the way that I can most gently wake her.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the piece of chocolate. I waft it under her nose for a few seconds and slowly start to see her eyes flutter.

"There's my Lizzy," I say with a smile as she comes around. She stares up at me for a few seconds with her sea green eyes, the most beautiful eyes that I have ever seen. "Sorry, in all the commotion, in melted in my pocket." She laughs.

"So, with all the disaster and destruction raining down around you, you still found a way to bring me chocolate?"

"I have my ways…"

"I knew you'd come for me."

"Really? I thought you told me run away and save myself?" I say through my lingering smile.

"Well, ok, I _hoped _you come for me." We both laugh this time. Finally, we just silently stare at each other with grateful faces for a few seconds. She is not grateful that I saved her, and I am not grateful that she saved me. We are both grateful that we saved each other. "Well," Lizzy says breaking the silence. "What are you waiting for?" Our lips meet in a kiss that is so full of love and passion that it would be a crime to try to describe it in words. It is the first truly perfect moment of my life.

I manage to contact the Ministry using Ohm's radios. Holmes and Sturm already have Strike Teams on station in hovercraft off the coast of District 1. It takes them less than two hours to reach the island.

_"I'll have to remember to thank them one day…"_

I move Lizzy out to the courtyard. She smiles as she sees the sunrise light up the sky.

"It's the first time I've seen the sun in person since he brought me here. For a little while, I thought I might not ever see it again." Soon, she falls asleep in my arms. I let her rest. She's had a rough couple of days.

I pass the time by trying to make sense of what happened here, until I realize it may be impossible. I turn Ohm's bloody Reevox collar over and over again in my hands. I wonder if he was always this evil or if he was just made that way by someone else?

_"No, it doesn't really matter," _I finally realize in another quiet epiphany._ "Evil can be within us all. It's what we choose to be at the beginning of every new day that really matters."_

When I hear the roar of the approaching hovercraft, I pull out a flare and launch it into the sky. The pilot artfully maneuvers it inside the remains of the compound and sets it down directly in front of us. Before the ramp has even finished dropping, Lizzy and I are surrounded by heavily armed commandos. I brief the leader on Ohm and his team rushes inside to secure him.

I don't even let the medics touch me before they load Lizzy onboard. In just a few minutes, she is safely in the craft's sickbay. As another medic is just finishing placing a pressure dressing on my arm, the commando team returns.

"Where's Ohm?" I shout at the team leader. "Is he still alive?"

"Sir," he yells back over the roar of the hovercraft's engines, "We checked the entire complex. It's empty. There's nobody here but us."


	25. Chapter 25

After landing back at the Ministry, Lizzy and I were taken straight to Capitol Memorial Hospital. We haven't left in two days. Even though the doctors cleared me for release after only a few hours, they insisted on keeping Lizzy for observation. The staff seems to be running every test imaginable. Both of us are becoming increasingly frustrated as she is constantly insisting that she is perfectly fine, but they will not let her go.

I only leave her bedside for a few minutes at a time, mostly just to get some air out on the building's rooftop garden. Being outside in the open seems to calm the "fight or flight" reflex that is still hanging around in the back of my mind. The rest of the time is spent reconnecting with my wife, talking about our experiences, and basically discussing where we will go from here.

The doctors made us both sit down with a psychologist for a full evaluation. Lizzy was especially annoyed considering this was her profession, but as always, she was kind and cordial through the whole process. I am afraid that I was not as obliging. The things I experienced will be with me the rest of my life. The few hours of sleep that I do manage to get are already filled with nightmares. I soon realize that the only place I feel safe enough to close my eyes is when I'm next to Lizzy's bedside. I keep picturing Ohm's snake attacking her, sinking his fangs into her chest, and then consuming her as I stand by helplessly; Ohm's disgusting artificial laughter is echoing through the background, never leaving my ears. The dream always ends the same way: I bolt awake with a stifled scream and stare through the darkness for a few seconds, trying to remember in my disoriented stupor where I am. It is only as my eyes adjust, and Lizzy's sleeping silhouette appears, I finally feel like myself again. Of course, when the shrink asked me if I was having trouble sleeping, I completely denied it. She knew I was probably lying, but I don't care. I know my life will never be the same, and that is something that I want to deal with on a personal level.

Probably the worst part of this whole ordeal is not knowing what happened to Ohm. After I informed President Holmes about his betrayal, the whole Defense Force was ordered to completely change every single security code and protocol, but the damage might have already been done. It seems impossible that he would be able to survive in his wounded state for very long considering how frail he already seemed, but I know that until his body is recovered or he is captured, anything could happen

Late on the evening of the third day, I sit in my usual chair next to Lizzy's hospital bed. We had talked for a few hours after dinner as the nurses were finishing their checks for the night. She told me besides bringing us even closer together, the other positive that this mess has taught her is that she now understands how difficult things must have been for Annie. Lizzy's trauma only lasted a few days while her aunt's lasted for years.

"My work has now become even more urgent," she said to me. If people are going through what I am right now, I have to find a way to ease their pain because I can't stand it myself." That's my wife, ever the optimist and healer. I suppose we're a perfect couple in a twisted sort of way. I am warrior, she is a peacemaker: the perfect balance.

Soon after that, Lizzy fell into a restless slumber. I am beginning to worry a little myself about her. She has seemed much more exhausted lately. Maybe the doctors know something I don't. My eyelids refuse to close despite my best efforts. Besides the fact that I don't want the chance of another nightmare, I'm worried that she might be having dreams worse than mine. It is true, Ohm tried to kill me in a thousand different ways, but torture is a helpless feeling that is far worse than being merely threatened with death. It is not until I see her calm down and drift into a quiet stillness that I am able to even consider sleep. However, just before my eyes close, I sense someone watching me in the doorway.

I turn around and am confronted with a face that I really don't want to deal with.

"What are you doing here, Finnick?" I admit, I could have been a little more welcoming than this initial chilly greeting. He stares right back at me with his trademark Odair green eyes.

"_There definitely not as nice as Lizzy's,"_ I can't help but think. _"At least hers aren't filled with contempt."_

"It's always a pleasure to see your face, too, Ares," he shoots back sarcastically. "Lizzy, called me last night while you were getting some air. I caught the first train from District 4. There's something I had to do."

"Look, this is a hospital. If you want to fight, let's at least go outside first. I don't want to wake her up."

"I'm not here to fight you, Ares." This takes me by genuine surprise.

"Then why are you?"

"Isn't it obvious? My cousin was kidnapped, tortured, and nearly killed! I'm here because she needs me. I really appreciate the your sentiment that I care more about punishing you than helping take care of her. I love her _too_, you know."

"_Alright, something's up." _This is the first time he's ever insinuated that what I have for Lizzy is genuine love. After all, to love requires you to be a decent human being first.

"I'm sorry."

"Forget it," he pauses for a brief second. "Actually, I admit that I did want to talk to you as well, but can we do it in the hallway? I don't want to risk her hearing this."

"Alright." I climb from my chair and follow him out of the room. Finnick looks like he's going through a genuine quandary in his mind right now. I am intrigued and concerned at the same time. "What's up?"

"I suppose…that I….owe you…an apology."

"For what?"

"Lizzy told me what you did. How you had the chance to run away and let her die, but didn't. And more importantly, you had the chance to take the easy way out, get killed, and leave her to the hands of that mutilating bastard, but instead you chose to risk everything to save her."

"Of course, I would risk everything to save her. I love her more than my life, Finnick."

"Right…"

"You see, that's what I never understood. Why have you refused to believe for all these years how we feel about each other?"

"That's not it all, Ares. Of course I've known how much she loved you. I knew it the first time that I ever saw her look at you. I know my cousin. She's like my sister."

"So, I've heard you say…" I say as I remember the phone call from last week.

"Sorry," I say as I realize that he's making a genuine effort to reconcile and that I should use a little more tact that I'm used to. "Go on."

"I suppose the reason I never wanted to accept you is that I would have to let go of something that I've always known…"

"And what is that, Finnick?"

"_Hate_. Your grandfather tortured my parents, killed my father, and drove my mother insane. When it was all said and done, he never really faced justice. He just died _laughing _like it was part of his plan all along. Then, out of the blue, my cousin falls in love with you, decides to get married, and make you part of the family. I guess I was worried that if I accepted you, then I would have to let my disgust of President Snow go as well."

He sounds so much like Ohm right now, but there is a real difference I notice immediately: Finnick Odair Jr. doesn't _want _to hate me anymore. He knows that I am a decent person and desires to let me in because he knows that I love Lizzy just as much as he does. I think he just needs one last thing to help him along to that place of reconcilation: my affirmation that his feelings are correct.

"I'm not my grandfather, Finnick, and I don't mean that as an insult to your intelligence. I just mean that you can accept a man named Snow into your family without forgiving another man named Snow. Lord knows, I will never forgive him either." I see a grin of understanding creep across Finnick's face. "I'd also be honored if you stayed with Lizzy until she recovers. After all, you're _family_." He actually manages a laugh.

"Thank you, Ares."

"So, are we alright now?"

"Not quite," he balls up his fist and strikes me hard across the face, sending me backwards into the wall. I stand back straight rubbing my jaw.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Just something I've wanted to do for years." He holds out his hand. "Now, we're alright." I chuckle as I shake his hand and finally make peace with Finnick Odair Jr.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?" We both turn to see President Holmes walking up to us.

"No, Ma'am," I say innocently.

"I'm going to go sit with Lizzy and let the important people talk business," Finnick says a little smugly as he quickly steps back toward Lizzy's room.

"Another old friend of yours, Colonel?" she asks.

"Not just a friend, Ma'am: an old member of my family suddenly becoming a new one." President Holmes grins understandingly. "So, what brings you here, Madam President? I realize that you must be busy right now doing damage control."

"Just wanted to see how you two were doing."

"We're doing just fine. I don't understand why they're keeping us here so long though." President Holmes' grin grows even larger. This sparks my attention. I hate the feeling that someone knows something I don't.

"You have no idea, do you?"

"Excuse me, Ma'am?"

"I don't think it will be a problem. I just spoke with the head physician assigned to your cases and he says you'll be able to take Lizzy home tomorrow evening. I'll have him come over to give you the details."

"That's a relief."

"Also, Colonel Snow, speaking of damage control, I've reconsidered your indefinite leave of absence. There's a lot to discuss about what has happened and what our plan of action should be. I'd like to hear your version of the events from you directly. Can I trouble you to come in tomorrow morning for a debriefing?" I feel _very_ vindicated right now and it feels good.

"I'll be there bright and early, Ma'am."

"Good, I'll see you then." She turns to walk away but pauses for a second. "Oh, and Colonel Snow…"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Congratulations," she says with satisfaction as she leaves. Now, I'm really annoyed.

"_What the hell was that about?" _

A few minutes later, the doctor finds me with Finnick in Lizzy's room and asks to speak to me privately. Finnick graciously excuses himself and steps outside. The doctor briefly examines some notes on his chart before he begins:

"I'm sorry to keep your wife here so long, Colonel Snow. It must have been very inconvenient but we wanted to make sure that with all the trauma and stress she's been through, that there was no permanent damage. Frankly, I'm amazed."

"Amazed about what?"

"Well, considering the circumstances, I'm shocked she didn't lose the baby."

"WHAT?"

He looks at me incredulously. "You mean you didn't know?"

"Are you sure?" I ask in disbelief.

"Absolutely, as soon as we saw her blood work. I guess we just assumed that you two had already found out. My apologies."

I have to lean on my chair for support. The realization hits me in the face harder than Finnick just did:

_My wife is pregnant…_and I couldn't be happier.


	26. Chapter 26

Amelia the analyst comes to the final points of her brief.

"To summarize, we've managed to re-encrypt the entire Defense Net, but there is only so many changes to the code we can make, considering Ohm helped design it."

"It will have to be enough," General Sturm says with a bit of annoyance.

"What about his assets?" I ask to President Holmes.

"I've ordered the Central Bank to freeze his accounts, his factory has been seized, and we've placed data taps across the entire Information Net to search if any of his personal access codes are ever used. If he's still alive, he won't have any resources at his disposal."

"He managed to find a way back to the top before," I wouldn't count him out just yet.

"He's a sixty-year old mute stranded in the middle of the ocean with only one arm and half a blood supply if what you've told us is accurate, Colonel Snow," General Sturm says laughing.

"A man like him always thinks three steps ahead, Sir," I respond. "He must have had a way off that island and I don't think we've seen the last of him."

"Is that your professional opinion?"

"It's the feeling I have in my gut, Sir."

"Which I suppose I need to learn to respect more," he gives me a grin, the first I've ever seen from him in my direction that didn't immediately follow some kind of insult. "Just be sure you don't let that go to your head, Snow."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sir."

"One last thing, Colonel," President Holmes says to me. "With the _departure_ of Mr. Ohm, it seems the UDP is in need of a new Chief of Special Defense. After discussing it with General Sturm, we would like to offer you the position."

"Isn't that a civilian position, Ma'am?"

"Yes, but I assure you that you would remain an important member of the Defense Community, and it would be a _substantial_ increase in pay and benefits. All of us here agree that you have fulfilled your obligation to the military and to the nation. You have nothing left to prove to anyone."

I stare at them in disbelief for a few moments.

_"You have nothing left to prove to anyone."_ The words hit me like a hammer. I've finally done it: I've shown them that they can trust me, but it's not the relief that I've been searching for all these years.

"With all due respect to your incredibly generous offer, Madam President, I'm afraid I will have to decline."

"What?" she says as if I was insane.

"I think I'm not quite done proving myself to everyone…

"Who's left?"

"Me."

"I don't understand, Colonel."

"I'm not interested in wealth or position. I just want to be able to look at myself in the mirror every morning and say that I'm doing everything I can to be the best man I can be, not just for myself, but for my wife…_and my child_." The image of my great-aunt Medea being strapped to a chair in the gas chamber enters my mind. Ohm's revelation that she was killed at her own brother's hand for the sole reason of increasing his grip on Panem has been burning like an ember in my consciousness for days. "There are still people left in this country who live with the demons of the past. They are afraid that the ideals born in the Revolution will fail; that once a few gain enough money and power, tyrants will send us back to the days when we were slaves to the greed and lust of a few: when dictators made us kill our children for their own sick entertainment. It's for those who are afraid that I want to continue to fight. Right now, I don't think I can do that by discovering new technological terrors, but only by wearing this uniform."

Everyone sitting around me stares back in silence. I hope that what I've just said makes sense to someone else besides me. But soon, the approving looks from their faces let me know that I have been heard.

"Very well, Colonel Snow," President Holmes says. "Panem is honored to have men like you fighting for it."

"Thank you, Madame President."

The meeting begins to break up. President Holmes congratulates me one more time before heading to the door. I gather my notes and prepare to leave until Amelia walks over and leans toward me.

"It's good to have you back, safe and sound, Sir."

"Thank you." She smiles from ear to ear before excusing herself back to her station. I look over to see General Sturm walking towards me as well.

"Watch it, Snow, you're a married man with a child on the way."

"Oh, she's just a friend, Sir." He takes the seat right next to mine. I know whatever he's about to say is something he doesn't want anyone else to hear.

"Did you know that I was on the committee that came up with the "R &R" program?"

"No, Sir."

"There was a great split in the leadership of the rebellion during the first days of the interim government. There was going to be one more Hunger Games, a way to seek final justice against the children of the elite, but after the assassination of President Coin, the idea failed."

"Why?"

"Because of what you just said back there…people were afraid that we would go back to the old ways, just with new tyrants. However, we knew that we couldn't just let you go, and a solution had to be found that wouldn't cost us our souls."

"So I suppose I owe you a great deal of gratitude, Sir?"

"Hardly…"

"Why is that?"

"Because I was the committee's one dissenting vote…I _wanted _another Games…and for that I am so sorry." He looks into my eyes to see a reaction, hoping that his inadvertent olive branch doesn't backfire. After a few seconds, I finally respond.

"You don't owe me an apology, Sir. I understand."

"Well, that's surprising," he says bemusedly.

"I'm not talking about the idea of us killing each other, Sir. I mean I understand now what it's like to face the death of someone who you love so much. To look their attacker in the eye, and want with every fiber of your being to watch them suffer and die."

"Then why didn't you kill Ohm when you had the chance?"

"Because, Sir, I knew that if I fell to those impulses, I would no longer be the man who was fighting for the right side in the first place. I would just be another petty tyrant out for revenge."

I can see the guilt still lingering in his face. He doesn't know what to say at first and merely looks down at the ground.

"You really are a better man than me, Snow…"

"No, Sir, I'm just a man who loved someone very special…just like you loved Lucia." Hearing me speak her name draws a reaction that I never expected to see from the hardened eyes of General Sturm:_ tears_.

"Tell me, Snow, honestly, do you think she would be happy with who I became?" I stare directly at his face as I answer.

"Yes, Sir, not only because you fought for something that she believed in, not only because you fought for your country for so long, but because you fought _for her_…" I hold my hand out in friendship. He reaches over and grabs it hard.

Careful to wipe the tears from his eyes before he gets up from the table, he walks away toward the door.

"Colonel Snow," he says abruptly turning back.

"Yes Sir."

"There's something else you need to know…the idea for the Hunger Games with Capitol children was Coin's idea. Before her death, the rebel leaders decided to place the decision in the hands of the seven surviving Victors. Three voted 'no' including Annie Odair." He pauses carefully, as if he's afraid he is about to reveal something that will destroy me. "Four voted 'yes' including your Mockingjay…" I look down to the floor in shock. "I know you loved and admired her, but…"

"Sir, I forgive her. In fact, I forgive _all_ of them…including you."

He nods approvingly as if he sees that his new faith is justified.

"Good," he says quietly. "Now, just work on forgiving yourself."

I leave the Ministry early for the first time in weeks. Finnick is waiting for me at the hospital to help take Lizzy home. There is much work to be done, and I smile as I realize there is only nine months to do it. As the elevator approaches the lobby, I check my uniform out of habit. I make sure that all of the insignia are straight and polished. I make sure that my flag is neat and clean on my shoulder. Then, I look down to my nametag. The word, _"Snow" _stares back up at me in bright, yellow letters. As the doors open, I walk straight out into the lobby and hold my chest high for everyone to see.


	27. Chapter 27

Over a year has passed since Ohm's Games. Much has changed, but much has not. I stare out at the glorious Shenandoah Valley: its green peaks covered with peaceful forest. What has always been the escape of Katniss has soon become mine as well in the months since we first began to come to District 12 regularly. The warm spring breezes feel reinvigorating. They calm me down almost as much as my new family does. I need this place now for the nightmares still come at night. Lizzy has even admitted to me that she is haunted by terrifying visions in her sleep as well. Sometimes, I am the one who awakens to her terrified screams in the dark, others it is she who must wrap her warms around me to blunt the sting of the cold sweat on my skin after I snap back into consciousness after slaying long dead opponents.

I look over to her now; playing a careless game of tag with little Prim and Haymitch Mellark. You would never know from her smiles and laughter that she was the same terrified woman trapped in Ohm's terror device such a short time ago. The smell of freshly baked bread from the kitchen in Victor's Village hangs in the air and mixes perfectly with the scent of roasting venison on the barbecue grill. Peeta tends the coals with same careful attention that he pays to his oven and his art. Apparently, he has become quite skilled over the years in preparing what Katniss brings home in her game bag.

Prim and Haymitch's innocent laughter is like a salve that is helping to heal my scarred mind. The children are blissfully ignorant of the terrible things that can happen in the world, and I love them for that. Their parents have taught them what the Games were, but they are just stories, much like the boogey-man under the bed. I think this is why Katniss and Peeta have allowed us to get so close to them, and why Lizzy and I will allow the Mellarks so close to our children: It makes the lessons of the past more real. Hopefully, the next generations will learn from our tragedies instead of having to experience their own. This reasoning is why I have insisted that Lizzy and I start visiting here so often. This particular trip, however, is extremely special because it is the first time that we have brought a third little member of our clan.

Katniss peacefully sits in a chair, watching Lizzy play with Prim and Haymitch, while holding a sleeping bundle in her arms. It is my infant son, Octavian. When he was born, both Lizzy and I were so happy that he looked so much like us, but for different reasons. She was thankful that he had my nose and auburn hair, but I did not breathe a sigh of relief until I saw his little eyes. I was worried that somehow, from a place buried deep in my DNA, that he would be cursed with the serpentine eyes that would forever mark him as descendant of Coriolanus. Instead, when he first gazed up at his father, all I saw was beautiful sea-green.

Katniss rocks him gently back and forth, singing a quiet melody to him. I can't make out the words, but it is beautiful. When she comes to the end of the tune, she looks over and sees me off by myself, staring at her loving care of my child. Careful not to disturb the infant's peaceful slumber, she stands up, walks over to check things with Peeta, and then comes and takes a seat with me.

"Hell of a view you have. How do I get a backyard like this?"

"Win the Hunger Games." Both of us burst out laughing. She then looks down at Octavian. "You know, I never thought in a million years that I would be a holding a baby in my arms with the last name, Snow."

"Well, I'm glad you are…but if certain Avoxes had had their way, you wouldn't be."

"How has Lizzy been doing?" Katniss asks caringly.

"Better actually…I wish I could say the same." I pause as I ask a question that has been brewing in my head for months. "Honestly, do the nightmares ever go away?" She answers with her trademark honesty.

"No, but they do get easier to deal with. Especially when they keep reminding you of how precious things around you can be." She looks over to Peeta, Prim, and Haymitch. I look first to Lizzy and then to my son.

"So, have they caught the bastard yet?"

"No, he's disappeared without a trace. President Holmes is already working on having him declared dead."

"Typical politician, always out for appearances first," Katniss says with annoyance.

"Interesting opinion for a presidential assassin. I guess some things never change, however, I assure you that she is worlds above some of the other leaders of Panem who have made your acquaintance." Both of us laugh again.

"So do you think it was worth it?" I ask.

"What?"

"What you and Peeta went through to be together in the arena, the war, picking up the pieces of his mind, everything."

"You know, the versions of Peeta and me you saw in all those reruns isn't exactly reality."

"How so?"

"The love between us in the first games was all an invention of our mentor…at least on _my_ side of things. Haymitch and I thought it would bring us more sponsors and keep us alive if I played along with Peeta's feelings." This is more of a shock to me then when I found out that Katniss voted yes for the Games with the Capitol's children. "I didn't realize that I actually loved him back for real until I almost lost him to Snow's…." she hesitates apologetically.

"It's alright," I say reassuringly. "Keep going."

"_President _Snow's torture. It was when I saw the good person inside of him almost eclipsed by hatred and anger that I knew I couldn't stand to ever live without him again."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you asked if all of it was worth it. Before that Reaping Day, I was one-hundred percent convinced that I would never get married and have children." She points to Prim who is currently chasing Lizzy across the grass as Haymitch bounces along behind his sister. "Prim is ten years old now. If things had stayed the same, her name would be in those glass bowls in less than two years. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I heard her called over those loudspeakers. If she had made it, than it could be Haymitch just a few years later. I'd have rather died a crazy old spinster alone in the woods than put myself through one second of that.

But now, with men like you protecting us," she says reaching out and patting my knee acerbically, "We live in a different world: a world where _all_ our children can grow up to be whatever they choose to be and never knowing things like the Hunger Games. Was it worth it?" she asks looking one last time toward her three most treasured possessions. "I would go through everything again a million times if it meant that I could sit here peacefully on this sunny day and see my husband happily cooking lunch while my son and daughter play games with your beautiful wife. I think that when you look down at this little guy here, you know your answer would be the same." I am speechless, but I know that she is right.

"So, what will little Octavian Snow choose to be," Katniss says gently rocking him back and forth, "a soldier, like his father…or maybe _a politician_?" she says looking back to me.

"Actually, I kind of hope he takes up fishing." She smiles at my words.

"Hey everybody!" Peeta yells from the back porch. "Food's almost ready! I just gotta get the rolls out of the oven." Lizzy leads Prim and Haymitch from the grass inside to wash up.

"He really is a good man…" I say trailing off.

"The best," she replies. "No offense."

"None taken. Whether you really loved him or not during that first games doesn't matter, you know? You made the right choice in the end, if you don't mind me saying so."

"I don't mind at all. I hope that little revelation hasn't spoiled the view of your beloved Mockingjay too much," Katniss says sarcastically.

"You'll always be my beloved Mockingjay," I reply.

"Actually, Peeta and I had a long talk about that recently. You see, I've grown kinda tired of being that beloved Mockingjay. I mean, that was over twenty-five years ago, and I think I deserve to retire."

"What?" I ask confused.

"Well, I'm a lot of different things now: hunter, wife, mother…my schedule is packed and being a treasured national icon sort of gets in the way." She expertly balances Octavian in one arm while reaching into her pocket with the other. She pulls something out and puts it in my palm. "My time has passed, Ares. This country needs new heroes to look up to." She smiles one last time and stands up. "C'mon little guy, I think your mama will want you back," she whispers into Octavian's sleeping ears.

She walks over to the kitchen to help Peeta and Lizzy. Alone again, I look down to see what she placed in my hand. It is her Mockingjay pin: the sacred symbol of the Revolution.

Unfortunately, I don't get long to savor the moment.

"_BEEP, BEEP, BEEP,"_ chirps the communicuff on my wrist. I press the button and answer.

"Colonel Snow," I say expecting a routine message from the Ministry.

"It's wonderful to hear your voice again, _My Dear Ares_." It is like I have been dropped into a giant tank of ice water. I jump up and run over to the forest, not wanting anyone to know with whom I'm speaking.

"So, you _are_ alive, Ohm. I was starting to wonder. I see you've made yourself another Reevox."

"So, we're back to formalities now? Pity, I was starting to like the little friendship we were building before. Yes, I've made another Reevox. I had to after you so rudely took my old one as a trophy."

"I suppose it won't do me any good to trace this?"

"Probably not, though I do see that your technicians at the Ministry have done a splendid job enhancing your security protocols. Who knows? You_ might_ be safe now."

"Why don't I believe you when you say that?"

"_Because you know me_, My Dear Colonel. You know what I'm _capable _of."

"What do you want, Ohm?"

"After our little encounter on the island last year, I've had some time to reflect. I really do apologize for being such as horrible host to you and Mrs. Snow. Perhaps the next time the three of us meet, it will be under more civil circumstances. Actually, should I say the _four _of us now. I'm sorry I haven't congratulated you yet on the new arrival."

"Don't you even dare mention my son!"

"Now there is that fiery temper I've missed so much. Tell me, Colonel, who do you have your monthly meetings with at Special Defense now? Does he or she provide the same level of quality that I did or are you still searching for another with my talents?"

"I really don't think you called me to ask for your old job back, Ohm, so get to whatever point you're going to make."

"Fine, always impatient as usual. You see, I've realized you were right all along. You're not my enemy at all! I mean, you can't help what you are anymore than I can help what I am. The real enemies are those who _tolerate your existence_: The Ministry, that pompous ass General Sturm, and that cow of a President that keeps getting foolishly re-elected time after time. Why you could even say that the real enemy are the people of Panem themselves. After all, they claim to abhor the horrors of the old regime and yet allow so many of its old traditions to remain. Luckily for me, my new friends feel the same way."

"What are you talking about, Rikard?"

"Back to first names again? Really, Colonel, this is becoming tiring. You must make up your mind."

"Dammit, what is going on?"

"Oh don't worry, _God of War_, you'll find out soon enough…_HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!"_ The same maniacal laughing that haunts my nightmares returns. That is when I hear the explosions begin.

END OF BOOK ONE


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